


Masked

by Blueyedgurl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy Petyr Baelish, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Lemon, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence, a wee bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 60,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueyedgurl/pseuds/Blueyedgurl
Summary: A fix for season 7, mostly focusing on a Sansan reunion.  Almost all TV canon but may slip into some book canon as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is my first fic and was written before season 7 on a whim. Finally feeling brave enough to start posting. All characters belong to GRRM. Bad punctuation belongs to me.

Sansa

Sansa walked briskly through the yard. One of the watchmen had informed her of visitors at the gate. Brothers without Banners, they told her. As she approached the group, wind and cold nipping at her face, snow and slush nipping at her heels. She began to recognize some of the faces before her, faces from a time and life, long past. Ser Beric, whom her father had sent to kill the Mountain. She had to admit part of her was pleased, she had thought him long dead.

  
As her eyes scanned the group of men her heart fluttered and her breath hitched. A tall figure stood to the side, his face partially covered. Sansa looked directly at him and approached. She walked passed her guards, and amongst the group of newly arrived men, all eyes on her. When she was standing in front of him he drew his sword. She saw her men draw their own swords out of the corner of her eye. The tall man kneeled and placed the sword at her feet.

  
“You may rise, Sandor Clegane.”

He looked up at her then. She heard her sworn shield stir behind her and turned to face her.

“My lady, that man is the Hound, he is quite dangerous. He shouldn’t be trusted.”  
Sansa heard Sandor growl behind her. She turned and saw Brienne and the other guards with their swords drawn, prepared to fight. She looked at Ser Beric, as surprised smile on his face.

“Brienne, I am well aware of who he is and what he is capable of, however, he will not harm me nor anyone in my care. I demand you put away your swords.” Sansa turned looking Sandor in the face. She noted that although he wore the familiar mask of the Red Keep, the rage was gone from his eyes, she was glad for it.

“Do you speak for these men? The Brothers without Banners?”

“Aye, My Lady. They’re a bunch of superstitious fools, but good men and fighters all the same.”

Ser Beric chuckled “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Sansa turned her attention back to Ser Beric, who appeared to serve as their leader. “Ser Beric, It is good to see you again. My Brother Jon is away until this evening. I will have some rooms prepared for you and your men. I’m sure you are tired from your journey.” She motioned for the men to follow giving orders as she went to prepare rooms, food, and water for baths.

“When my brother arrives I will let him know of your presence. We’ll expect you and two of your men at our council meeting in the morning. I’ll have someone fetch you from the great hall after you break your fasts.”

“Yes, My Lady, on behalf of my men I’d like to thank you for your hospitality. We are willing to serve in whatever capacity is needed to serve the north in the great battle ahead.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your reprieve.”

Giving one final look at Sandor, unable to read his gaze, knowing she wore a similar mask on her own face. Turning on her heel she saw Podrick approach to offer his services.

“Podrick, See that Clegane has quarters in the warmest area of the castle, most likely near the family quarters, and ensure there is a grate in his fireplace. Bring him to me after he has settled and had his supper, let him know I wish to speak with him alone.” She felt Brienne’s eyes on her back.

“As you wish mi’ lady.” Podrick made a small bow and scurried off to do as he was bid.

“Lady Sansa, I must protest this.”

Sansa stiffened and tipped up her chin. “You will not protest this. He is the one person who has protected and provided me counsel while I was in the Lion’s den that was Kings Landing. He is one of the few in this world that I trust with my life. He will not harm me. So whatever preconceived notions you have of him will be dropped.”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably, opening and closing her mouth again in protest, but thought better of it.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Sansa allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction before returning to her chambers.

Sansa hummed with excitement and nerves as she saw to the remainder of her tasks for the day. She knew she would need to speak to Jon, he would protest harder than anyone about Sandor’s presence. She didn’t allow herself to wonder how and why Sandor had found himself at Winterfell, she had thought him dead long ago after the burning of the Saltpans. She knew it wasn’t him that was guilty of those crimes, she knew that that any atrocities that he had committed in the past were because he was ordered to. She was relieved to know that he still lived, that the rumors that had made it to her in the Eyrie were nothing more than myth.

 

Sandor

 

When he first saw her he barely recognized her. She had gotten taller and filled out her curves. She no longer shrank from him like a child but was commanding in the presence of those around her. No longer adorned in the complicated and ornate styles of the Red Keep but the simple styles of the North. She was cloaked in a mask, no longer wrapped in just her courtesies, guarding her thoughts and feelings from the world. When she laid eyes on him he wasn’t sure if she would be pleased to see him, or take his head. He would have accepted either but was glad of the former.

When she approached him he took the risk to draw his sword. He saw the reaction of her men and that big woman Brienne. He laid his sword and himself at her feet in supplication. His whole entire journey north he knew not what he would do if he saw her again. This was his answer. He held his breath, feeling disconnected from himself, he heard her defending him. He went back to wearing the mask of the red keep gripping the hilt of his sword, not betraying the intensity of emotions he was experiencing at being here in the presence of the Little Bird.

As he made his way across the yard a young man approached him, a stroke of cognition came to him, the Imp’s squire.

“My Lord, the Lady has requested you receive special quarters.”

“I’m no Lord.” He growled.

“Pardons ser.” Podrick offered.

“I’m no Ser, either. Where’s your little lord Lannister?”

Podrick looked at him, appearing to be confused.

“I no longer serve Lord Tyrion. I’m squire to Lady Brienne of Tarth, now.”

Sandor grunted an acknowledgment. He followed Podrick to the room that was to be his. It was warm, despite a freshly started fire, had a large bed, a small table and two decent sized chairs. This was nicer than any room he’d been in for quite some time, possibly since his days as Kingsguard.

He entered the room, a tub for bathing being brought in behind him. He accepted these things as payment for future services, feeling like she owed him noting from their past life where he was harsh, angry, and drunk. If anything he owed her.

“Pardon,” the squire interrupting his thoughts. “But My Lady Sansa requests your presence after you have settled. I will return for you, if you wish it.”

“Aye, I’ll be ready.”

Podrick nodded and turned on his heel and exited the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa

Sansa had changed her attire to a dress she had just finished, it featured a dire wolf embroidered on the front. She was nervous, hands trembling she had barely touched her dinner. She needed to calm herself, insistent on not giving away her thoughts for fear that he’d mock her.

As she sat in her chamber awaiting his arrival she thought about the raven that she had received from Little Finger, telling of his impending arrival. Although Jon would return tonight she knew that he would be off again soon seeing to the need of their allies and gathering men for any potential fight.

She felt relief at Sandor's presence in Winterfell. It was really the most at peace she'd felt since taking it back from the Boltons.

She was disturbed from her thoughts by a knock on her door.

“Enter.”

Podrick entered first. “Sandor Clegane, My Lady.”

“Thank you, Podrick, Please ensure we are not disturbed.”

“Yes, Mi’ Lady.”

“Please have a seat.” Offering him the chair across from her. “It’s been a long time Clegane. I’m glad to see you are well. I thought you to be dead.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
Sandor

 

Sandor took in her solar, it was small like his own chambers, but with a desk and several chairs throughout the room. One door going to the hall, a second door off to the side of the room presumably to her own bed chamber.

“Aye, that it has Lady Stark. Last I had heard of you, you had flown from your cage.” Sandor rasped, smirking. “However, I’m not sure if it is wise for a Lady to be meeting with a rabid dog alone.”

“Yes, I did escape. There were many moments that I regretted not going with you the night of the Blackwater.” Sandor shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of that terrible night. “I escaped one cage, to find myself in another in the Eyrie, and then another here at Winterfell. Believe me when I say nothing anyone says about you being here, with me, can compare to the true horrors of my past.” She looked him in the eye as she said the last willing him to understand her.

He met her eye, he had heard rumors of what the Boltons were capable of, heard rumors about the wife of the Bolton bastard during his travels, but dared not believe it was his Little Bird “If anyone has touched you-“

Sansa cut him short by raising her hand, Sandor was left clenching his fists and his jaw.

“Any threats to my person has been eliminated. You taught me well in the south, the world is full of killers, I am now one myself.” Sandor flinched at her words, as if being doused in cold water.

“However, I would like for you to become a part of my guard and my counsel. I know better than to ask any oaths from you. I don’t need an answer now, you can think on it if you wish.”

“I’ll keep you safe Little Bird, oath or no. No one will dare to touch you again or I’ll kill them myself.”

Sansa’s eyes softened at this admission.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll arrange for an official position for you, which you can fill in a few days after you’ve had time to rest and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

Sandor felt at a loss of words for her reaction to him, he had expected her to distance herself, not bring him into to the fold and refer to Winterfell as his home. She couldn’t realize how true those words were to him, that any place that housed her and allowed him entry would be home to him.

“I’ve heard tell from Brienne that you were traveling with my sister.”

Sandor chuckled.

“Aye, I traveled with her. Last I saw of her was near the Salt Pans, where she left me for dead. She’s a tough one though, I’ll give her that. I’d wager that she’s still alive somewhere.”

Sansa allowed herself a rare smile, remembering Arya’s strength and boldness.

“I’m sorry she did that to you.”

“Don’t be, I asked her to kill me, to give me a quick death. She didn’t. I’m glad of it now.”

“I’m glad as well, then.”

“You don’t need to chirp your songs to me Little Bird. I failed to bring her to safety, as well as you.”

“Maybe, but I refused you before. There were times that I regretted it, but now I see it would have probably gotten us both killed.”

A silence fell of them both at the admission that both of them knew but neither wanted to admit to with any consistency.

“So, you’re in charge now is it?”

“Only while Jon is away. The Lords have named him King in the North, but I don’t wish to bore you with that...” She hesitated her breath catching in her throat.

He regarded her then, waiting for what she was about to say.

“Little Finger is plotting against me, trying to use me to get the throne for himself. I know that killing him would be easy but I need proof of his wrong doings to present to the lords of the Eyrie. I can’t afford to lose his armies.”

He felt the limited control he had over his temper fray. He closed his eyes willing for the rage to quiet. “Has he touched you? Threatened you?” Fists clenching, heart racing. He’d gut the fucker himself if he’d so much as looked at her wrong. The silence she kept was long, too long for his comfort that was all of the answer he needed. A growl rumbled low in his throat.

“I don’t need you to act. I know that you want to but right now, I need you to be vigilant.” She looked at him earnestly. “I need him to fall into a trap. I can’t let him to continue to use me as a pawn any more than we can afford to lose the knights of the Vale.”

“Very well, Little Bird, but if he so much as touches you in my presence, he’ll wish he was dead.” She smirked at that before allowing her mask to fall into place. It unsettled him to see that she wore it so well. In the south he knew she needed one to hide behind, to survive. Now that she had it he wished for nothing more than to tear it away from her.

 

Sansa

 

They were interrupted by a commotion in the yard, the sounds of men and horses arriving.

“It sounds as though Jon has arrived. I’ll let him know of your new position here. As for now I’ll let you rest. I’ll expect you to be at the council meeting tomorrow. Podrick will fetch you after you’ve broken your fast.”

“Aye, Little Bird. I’ll be there.”

She felt herself smile at the use of his name for her, the gentle tone of his voice, so unlike the man she used to know. But she knew that she had changed, too. She parted from him at the door and made way for Jon’s solar to greet him upon his arrival. They had much to speak of and no time to waste, nor did she want to risk prying ears.

Sansa waited for him, and it wasn’t long before he entered the room, wrapping her in an embrace.

“Sansa, you are well. I see things have been handled well in my absence, and that we have company.”

“Yes, that is something I need to speak to you about Jon. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, arrived with the Brotherhood. I have acquired him as one of my personal guard. However, I think we could make use of him in other areas as well.” She eyed him carefully for his reaction. Watching him go from surprised to on guard.

“You’re sure this is wise, the former Lannister guard?” He was suspicious, of her or Sandor she couldn’t figure.

“Yes, I know he won’t hurt me Jon. He was the only one I could trust not to hurt me when I was in Kings Landing. I know he’ll protect me, us, the north from any threats that arise.”

“If you think it’s wise, when did he arrive?”

“He arrived this afternoon with the Brotherhood. They intend to fight the threat from the north with us. Clegane has vouched for them.”

“And you’re sure you can trust him, them? To stay within the walls of Winterfell?”

“Yes, Jon. Clegane wouldn’t have traveled with them if he didn’t find them trustworthy. Amongst the Brothers are Beric Dondarian and Thoros of Myr.” She watched as recognition flashed across his face.

“Very well, I’ll speak with them tomorrow.”

“There’s no need, I already invited them to our council meeting in the morning. I figured it would do us good to take into account any news they’ve heard on the road.”

He sighed wary and nodded.

“You must be tired John. I’ll leave you for now, we can discuss anything else in the morning.” At that she left him and returned to her chambers to go to bed herself.

Sandor

Sandor fell asleep easier than he had anticipated, and although his dreams weren’t pleasant, at least there wasn’t fire.

He awoke to a knock on the door. Pulling on his breeches he went and answered it. A maid stood nervously before him with a bundle of fabric.

“Pardons m’lord, m’Lady sent me to bring these to you. Said that you might appreciate some fresh clothes. Food is served in the great hall, she said to tell you she’d send someone to retrieve you for the morning meeting.” She dropped into a curtsey as he took the bundle from her. “D’you require anything else, m’lord?”

“No that will be all. Give your lady my thanks and I’ll see her after the morning meal.”

The maid peeked a glance at him and nodded her understanding.

The clothes were his size and made from a light wool. The surcoat was wool and had 3 black hounds running along the collar. He ran his hands over the stitching, wondering when she had the time to complete this. He had never received anything so fine, and he would wear it with pride.

After washing and donning his new clothes he made for the Great hall. It was filled with the sound of scraping plates, groaning benches, and men talking amongst themselves. When he entered he took a seat near the back of the hall where a serving wench quickly brought him a plate with brown bread, eggs, and blood sausage. He tucked in, keeping an eye on the men around him, taking stock of his surroundings.

He was interrupted from his observations when he was approached by Podrick.

“Pardon.” Sandor noted that he had stopped attempting to address him as Sir or Lord, but noticed the nervous twitch when he wasn’t able to use a title for him. “Lord Stark wishes to address you before the others arrive for the council meeting.”

He nodded and rose from the bench following the young man sent to retrieve him. He admitted to himself that he was nervous. He knew Sansa would vouch for him but didn’t trust that her brother would accept her decision. He knew that to most men, all he ever would amount to is the rabid

Lannister dog. He didn’t hope to expect anything other than that from the brother to two girls he didn’t save.

When he entered the solar Jon was seated at the table, to his surprise Sansa was present as well.

Jon took notice of his presence and stood. Offering Sandor a handshake and motioned for him to sit, which he did.

“I hear you are now part of my sister’s guard.”

“Aye, you can entrust that nothing will happen to her while you’re gone, not with me here.”

“Glad to hear it. Your service is appreciated. We’re always on the lookout for strong allies.” Sandor nodded but doubted that Jon Snow trusted him any more than a mouse trusts a cat. He figured that this warm welcome was a result of the wolf coming out of Lady Stark, this ensured he stayed in the warm castle and wasn’t thrown out into the cold like a stray. He gave the man credit for his equal parts skepticism and acquiescence of Sansa’s wishes.

“After the meeting today the smith will be expecting you to come down for measurements. I noted yesterday that what little armor you have is poorly fitted and the sword you carry now is not of the standard I was used to seeing you with in the South. Our tanner can also fit you with appropriate furs and leathers to see you through the winter.”

“That is unnecessary-“ She cut him off, somewhere the little bird had lost patience with the use of her pleasantries.

“But it is necessary, and no less than we are offering to the rest of the brotherhood that came through the gates with you. However, due to the nature of your status and duties here, I insist that you be seen to first.” Her eyes bored into him a small grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, she won this round it seemed and she enjoyed it. Inside him his pride battled with his desire to please her.

“As you wish, My Lady” Sandor grunted and nodded. Jon watching the volley between the two, short though it was. Seeming pleased with what he saw he moved the topic to Sandor’s travels north, taking note of anything that he had heard or seen on his way. Shortly they were interrupted by the arrival of council members.

First came a tall red headed Wilding, then came the onion night. After a while Brienne arrived, Beric and Thoros. After them, several other men with Northern looks that Sandor idn’t recognize.

Introductions were made. There were discussions about the dead beyond the wall, Sandor struggled to wrap his mind around what he was hearing but knew that Thoros had seen the dead in the fire, skeptical as he was he wasn’t foolish enough to not believe the same story from several different sources. Although, the Starks were known to be noble to the point of foolishness they weren’t known to be liars. He felt he didn’t have much to contribute to this discussion and took to observation. He noticed the younger of the northern lords, a glover, eyeing Sansa throughout the meeting. He noted that she avoided eye contact with him at all costs, a target to watch for. He noted the ginger nearly gawking at Brienne throughout the meeting, this wasn’t really something worth noting as it was something he found humorous, especially since every time she caught his eye she rolled her own. Davos was attentive to Jon, giving advice when he had it. Tormund discussed terrain and wilding numbers. The northern lord discussed training and resources. All in all the meeting was informative for him. The meeting was drawing to a close, Sansa dismissing everyone except Brienne, Jon and himself.

“Little Finger will be arriving from the vale within the week. His raven arrived yesterday, hinting at a sennight. But knowing his love of surprises, it’ll be less than that and I wouldn’t even doubt if he were to arrive tomorrow” Sansa folded her hands in her lap and looked down.

“What is our plan for dealing with him?” Jon muttered, jaw clenching and his eyes becoming stony.

“He’s bringing Lord Royce and another garrison of men to help defend us. If we can convince Lord Royce that he is a poison to the north as well as all of Westeros, we may have grounds to remove him from his position.” She looked stoic and stony at her words.  
Jon nodded. “Did the letter say anything else?”

“Just another reminder of his generous offer for my hand” Sansa spat with a grimace.

Sandor’s breathing quickened, sensing the threat but feeling powerless against it.

“We’ll find a way to navigate this before long, I’ll never consent to him marrying you.” Sansa’s emotions flickered darkly over her face before returning to calm regality.  
Taking a breath she pushed herself away from the table. “Well, we’ve discussed all we need to for the time. Clegane, see to the forge, Podrick can show you the way if you need it.”

He filed out of the room to do as he was bid. Although the north had been hospitable to him he still didn’t feel at peace here, not with the Little Bird being pushed about by the slimy fucker Baelish. But he would watch out for her. He wouldn’t fail her again. Not while he lived and was in her presence. He brushed the dogs sewn on his collar fortifying himself for the uncertainties ahead and walked out into the cold yard of Winterfell.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa

  
Several days had passed since Sandor’s arrival and although she had seen him at the council meetings in the mornings, they had both been too busy to cross paths more than that. Sansa had felt worried and fearful of some of the rumors that Sandor would hear in the yard. She knew he would hear something eventually, she almost wished that she had been more forthcoming with what she had experienced, rather than vague explanations. A small part of her feared what he would think of her, but knew that if he had traveled so far just for the small chance that she would be here, that knowing what had happened to her wouldn’t deter him from staying. She did fear that it would keep him from allowing himself to get close to her. She had decided long ago she would no longer accept a political marriage, that she would marry someone she could trust, love. Someone strong, gentle and kind, like her father had promised her a lifetime ago. The little girl she had left in Kings Landing would accept none other than her non-ser non-knight who had dabbed blood from her lip, wrapped her in his cloak and offered to spirit her away when the world burned all around them.

She was stirred from her reverie by a knock on her Solar and a hasty entry by Jon. He had received a raven from Tyrion inviting him to Dragon Stone to parlay with the Dragon Queen the day prior.

“I’ve decided to go, I can’t risk losing her as an ally. If she really has dragons we will need them to win the war with the dead.”

She knew there was no arguing. She knew that he would go, leaving her to be in charge of things. She was angry, this isn’t what she wanted. It was one thing to placate the lords and manage the keep while he was a fortnight away at most. It was another that he would traipse off to the other end of Westeros and leave her to manage the ire of the northern Lords, hoping he would be back in time in case the worst happened. However, she couldn’t decide if the worst was Cersei or the dead.

“Very well.” Letting a sigh escape her “ Who are you taking with you?”

“Davos, the young Manderly, and a few others.”

“And what do I do with Baelish when he arrives?”

“The best you can, I know you hate him, I hate him too. But you’re right we need his men. I wished I would have listened to you before, you’re much wiser than I gave you credit for in the beginning. I trust you to hold things down here. And with The Hound here I’ve never felt safer leaving you. You were right about him, too. Heard tell that Glover lad said something in the yard about you and he knocked him in the dirt before anyone else could blink.” Jon gave a rare grin.

Sansa grinned back and rolled her eyes.

“When do you leave?” She wouldn’t allow him to distract her with intrigue and his flattery.

“Tomorrow at dawn.”

“I’ll make sure provisions are made ready for you and your men. See me tonight before you leave?”

Jon nodded his assent and left.

Sansa was weary now, drained from the emotions and responsibilities that weighed on her, combined with her continued lack of sleep. Between the stresses and the nightmares of her past horrors she was lucky to get more than a few hours of rest each night. Although, she was able to keep up with the constant sewing projects that she continued to find herself taking up. So at least she was making herself useful.

Before long she found herself wandering through the keep seeing to tasks that needed to be completed prior to Jon’s departure. She still wondered at when Little finger would arrive and how she was going to best handle him, when she felt eyes on her from across the yard. She looked up to see

Sandor watching her. He stood outside the sparing ring while two young boys hacked away with their tourney swords. Their mistakes did not escape his notice as he barked orders at them while barely taking his eyes off her. She smiled and nodded her head in greeting while going about her day. They had tasked Sandor in helping to train men for the battles to come, when not on guard duty. She wanted to ensure that he had opportunity to interact with the North men, gain their respect, and trust as he had hers.

When she had finally made it back to her chambers after the evening meal she was almost too tired to receive Jon. She knew that there was little business to attend to. Just their goodbyes and his assurances of as speedy return as he could muster. But despite her exhaustion she would wait for him, despite his promises there were no such things as guarantees in her world, and she would never again take for granted the ability to part from those she loved with warm wishes.

Sandor

The last two days were busy for him, getting acquainted with the keep and the northern men. They had put him to training the green boys when he wasn’t busy with council meetings or other activities. Although he enjoyed his role he felt he was slacking in what the Lady of the keep had originally asked of him with guarding and protecting her. As of now things seemed calm but he knew once Jon was gone and after Littlefucker arrived he would be back to high alert.

Overall, things seemed well here but he couldn’t help but hear various whispers of what had occurred when the Boltons were in charge. Nothing untoward about the Lady of the keep but still enough to set him on edge. So when he was in the sparring yard with the green boys and that Glover prick said something about Sansa being as cold and frigid as the north for all the attention she paid him, he knocked him the dirt before he could even finish the jape. As far as he was concerned she had been through enough, she would never marry again if she didn’t wish it for herself. He alone would see to that if nobody else would.

He had seen enough of the world to know the horrors that lie in it. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she had fully escaped the clutches of evil men, when she flew from her gilded cage in the Red Keep. The vagueness of what she had said to him on his first night had allowed him to imagine the worst, but it did not deter him from hoping, what little he allowed himself anyways, that she had escaped with some shred of innocence, dignity or even her naivety intact.

The few days of relative rest and the impending arrival of Baelish had left him feeling restless. Although his new duties didn’t start until after Jon left in the morning he felt that it was important to do a sweep of the halls before turning in for the night. The halls were mostly deserted and dark.

Finally making his way toward the family quarters he noted the darkness under Jon’s door implying he was already to bed. Going further down the hall he noticed a faint glow from Sansa’s chamber door, not enough light for her to be up but enough that a fire still burned in the grate. He was about to turn to go back to his own chambers when he heard a soft feminine voice. He chuckled to himself ‘Little Bird must be a sleep talker.’ But the speaking continued getting louder and more frequent, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as he paused and listened. For a moment nothing, maybe some slight rustling. Then it came, a loud scream. Before he realized he had drawn his sword and heaved himself against the lady’s door. When he came in there was no one, just Sansa tucked in her bed, when she screamed again this time thrashing.

He shut the door so as not to wake the rest of the keep, it would not do to have others see her in such a state. He sheathed his sword and was to her bedside in three strides.  
“Little Bird.” He sat on the edge of the bed and gently took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Sansa.” He called to her again. She started to sob and mumble he brushed the hair from her sweat dampened forehead gripping her shoulders and pulling her into an embrace.

He rocked her back and forth then, not knowing what to do, not even knowing how he had decided to do what he was doing now.  
“Little Bird, what have they done to you?” He continued with his embrace allowing her to come back to him, shushing her, rocking her.

He continued speaking to her to soothe her nerves, repeating that she was safe, that no one would harm her again. Despite her physical growth and her commanding presence she was still so small, frail, and vulnerable. He vowed to himself then that if there was anyone else alive who was responsible for the girl’s suffering he would end them, the stranger himself, wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Sansa

She was running through the halls, barefoot in a ripped dress. She was being chased at first by the bread riots mob with their dirty fingers clutching at her skirts and garlicky breath invading her nostrils. She called for Sandor be he didn’t come. She continued to run, turning a corner and finding Joffrey with her father’s head on a spike. She turned another corner feeling too slow to get away from anything, calling for Sandor again and again. She found herself in another room with Ramsey who threw Rickon’s head at her feet laughing maniacally and she screamed. She spun around to flee, only to see Ramsey and Little Finger smirking at her. She felt herself fall forward and began sobbing and trying to fight her way through the branches that suddenly engulfed her. She felt a warm firm grip and heard a soothing voice. Suddenly she was awake and Sandor was holding her close to him stroking her hair, gently rasping soothing words.

She was sobbing now. Gripping him tightly to her, fisting the sleeves of his tunic, his leather jerkin pressed against her dampened cheek. It was the first time she had awoken from a nightmare to feel safe. Sandor was breathing heavy, stroking her hair, she could feel his heart beating a wild rhythm in his chest. Finally his words were reaching her through her fog.

“It’s alright Little Bird, you’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not again, or I’ll kill ‘em.” He rumbled into the crown of her hair.

She pulled away and looked into his grey eyes. She reached up and touched his scarred cheek. He let her, almost as if he was waiting to see what she would do next.

“Thank you, Sandor.”

“You owe me no thanks. If you need anything I’ll be down the hall.” His shifted away from her as if to leave then.

Panic filled her and she reached for his arm to stay him. “No! Please, stay. I can never go back to sleep after those.”

Sorrow flashed through his eyes and he gave her a small nod. He turned and moved a chair to her bedside. When she realized he was staying she settled back into the pillows turning to watch him sink into the chair.

“Do those happen often?”

“Yes, nearly every night. I’m sorry if I caused you alarm.”

“It was no bother, girl. I was doing a sweep of the keep anyways. Truth be told I thought you had an intruder in here.” He rubbed his face with his hand warily.

“I’m afraid that my nightly visitors cannot be cleaved with a sword.”

Sandor grunted at her attempt at a jape.

“Who visits you then, in those dreams?” His face serious and searching

“Joffrey, the mob from the day of the bread riots, Ramsey Bolton, and sometimes Little Finger.”

“What did he do to you Little Bird?”

“You promise not to do anything until its necessary? Until I say?” She locked eyes with him then to ensure he would not agree just to appease her.

“Aye, girl. Not until you command it.” He said gruffly.

“He held me in the Eyrie like a hostage and a pawn. He would kiss me, sometimes place his hands on me.” She looked away from him then. Not being able to bare the shame of the conversation that was bound to happen next. “He sold me to the Boltons.” She noticed that Sandor tensed then.

Gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles whitened. When she met his eyes again she saw a flash of his old rage there, though it was not directed at her. She realized then that it was never directed at her.

“What did the Bolton’s do, Little Bird?”

She felt tears well up in her eyes then. From shame at what had happened or sadness over everything that they had taken from her she wasn’t sure.  
“Ramsey was worse than Joffrey. Smarter, more cruel. He tortured me. Raped me. Murdered those who tried to help me. Murdered Rickon.” She felt tears run down her cheeks again. Sandor had shifted forward in his seat reaching to her cheek and wiping a track of her tears away with his thumb.

She noticed the way his jaw clenched. Fearing he would move away from her again she placed her hand over his to stay him.

She took a deep breath, braving herself for what she would say next.

“I dream about those men. In my dreams I’m always running from them, but only turning from one horror to find another. I call for you, sometimes on nights that I sleep, you come for me. You cut them down and whisk me away. You save me.” She looked him in the eye willing him to understand a deeper meaning. Something that she was afraid to say aloud and scare him off for good.

“I’m not going anywhere, Little Bird. Not until you order me to.” His eyes were soft then. She knew he was being honest. Knew that this was his oath to her. She could see his care and concern for her, but wasn’t confident that it was enough, in that moment.

“Do you dream, Sandor?” She asked, unsure if he would answer her.

He pulled his arm away then, leaning back into the chair as if intending to settle in for a while.  
Sandor

He huffed out a breath then. In a million years he never would have dreamed himself in this position. Sitting in this goddess’ chambers, chasing away her fears and about to share his own. She had been bold in divulging her dreams to him. If it would have been anyone else but her he wouldn’t have bothered with this conversation, just checked to make sure all was well and been on his way. But somewhere deep down was a desire and need to comfort her and assure her the monsters of her past would not return for her.

“Aye, Little Bird. I dream.”

“What do you dream of?” Her brow was wrinkled in worry as if she was afraid he would deny her. Little did she know he felt incapable of denying her anything, even the answers to questions he would rather not give.

“Fire.” He was aware this was only a half-truth and he shifted in his seat at what was omitted from the answer.

“Oh.” She said looking at him sadly, and then appraisingly.

“What else do you dream of?” She asked as if afraid of the answer.

“The bread riots, a den of lions, my brother… and losing you to them.”

“Oh, Sandor.” She sat up then, the blankets falling around her waist.

He felt uncomfortable and shifted his eyes to look away from her then, but she would have none of it. She knelt in front of him and reached to place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. He struggled to look her in the eye, afraid of what might happen if he did.

That’s when he saw it. The way the fire in the grate cast shadows and light. A raised silvery line on her collarbone.

Before he could stop himself he reached out his hand and brushed her hair away, willing it to be a trick of the light or his tired eyes. But it wasn’t and looking at it more closely only made it larger and more evident. He felt his barely controlled rage revisit him at that. Felt Sansa freeze under his fingers. Felt her draw a shaky breath. That is when he was able to wrench is hand away from her for fear that he had frightened her by his inappropriate touch and brutish temper.

When he tried to meet her eyes again she was looking away from him.

“I’m sorry if I displease you, My Lord.”

This made his heart quicken, she had not addressed him so formerly outside of the company of others. He knew she was wrapping herself in courtesy, preparing for any harsh blows he may deliver. Scenes from the Red Keep flashed before him.

“There’s no need for that chirping, Sansa. You haven’t done anything wrong.” although his tone was not harsh.  
She looked at him then, eyes round and brimming with tears. She tucked her lower lip under her front teeth to keep it from quivering. He felt her shaking against where her body touched his knee.

“Nobody will want me after what he’s done.” She said in a ghost of a whisper.

He leaned forward then, hating to leave her lost and lonely at his feet. Scooping her up he placed her on the bed and wrapped her in one of her furs, sitting next to her.

“Any man who wouldn’t want you is a fucking fool and doesn’t deserve you.” He could hear the quiver in his voice. Knowing he was telling her the truth and fearing that he would watch her be wed to some pretty knight not worthy of her.

She leaned into him then, tucking her head under his chin. For the second time tonight he could feel his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He wanted to get up and retreat, leave some remnant of her dignity remain intact for someone more deserving than him. He knew if he did that there was no return, that he’d hate himself for rejecting her when she was reaching out to him. He was terrified. More so than before in the hall and he thought she was in danger. He could tear any threat to her apart with his bare hands, it was much different when she needed him to be gentle, caring, and warm. He feared that his best efforts would fall short and leave her wanting.

So he faced his fear, much like he faced Beric’s firey sword. He pulled her closer with the arm that was between them and wrapped his other around her in an embrace and placed his lips on the crown of her head. He breathed her in. It was then that he felt her relax and mold herself into him further. He was lost to her then, as he always was, but there was no denying it now. Not to himself. And certainly never to her.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa

  
When she awoke morning light was attempting to stream through her chamber window. She hadn’t realized when she fell back to sleep. She had felt calm, safe, and cared for in his embrace after their talk. To be honest he surprised her, not with his gentleness, but his openness. A blush crept up her cheeks as she thought about the closeness that they shared in that moment. She wasn’t lost in her thoughts long when she was interrupted by her handmaiden coming into her room.

“Oh, mi’ Lady I didn’t mean to disturb your rest. I’ll-“

Sansa interrupted her with a motion of her hand.

“Oh, you didn’t disturb me.” She was a sweet girl Talia, She always worked hard, handled Sansa with the utmost care, and didn’t spread gossip.

“Jus’ tha’ mi’ Lady is never to bed still, I know you have troubles sleepin’ miss”

“It’s no trouble. Did I miss Jon’s departure?” Sansa asked, glad that she had stayed up to say her farewells the night before.

“Yes, mi’lady. They’ve probably made it to the king’s road by now.”

Sansa rose, allowing Talia to help her dress. She was the only one she allowed to do so, with the scarring on her body. She blushed thinking of her reaction to Sandor having seen them the night before. She don’t know why she froze, afraid of his rejection, or perhaps that he would be angry at her for allowing herself to be marred by the types of men he had warned her about long ago. She couldn’t say what reaction she expected from him, anger, certainly. She didn’t know the capacity to be comforting and caring, albeit clumsily at times. She smiled to herself then, that love from the songs may actually exist, and in the dark recesses of her mind was an 11 year old girl that grinned and clasped her hands together, cheering her on.

She was sitting through another Council meeting, a smaller one now that Jon, Davos, and Lord Manderly’s nephew was gone. She shifted uncomfortably under Lord Glover’s constant eye. Although he never contradicted her or said anything outright against her, she knew he only viewed her as a prize to be won for a job well done by his Liege Lord. The Glovers had already sought her hand in marriage for him, and seemed hesitant to accept the outright refusal.

She was just about to close the meeting when Podrick came in looking rather harassed.

“My Lady, pardon the interruption, but Lord Baelish has arrived. He’s insisting on entry to your meeting.” His face was flushed and breathing was heavy, he must have practically sprinted through the halls to get here in time. She caught Sandor shifting and about to rise from his seat.

“It is no mater Podrick, we’re nearly finished here. Tell Lord Baelish I will speak with him after he’s had a chance to get settled.”

He nodded and exited the room. Sandor made to get up, face impassive, the silver of his eyes flashing.

“I must see to training the men in the yard. Lady Brienne will see to you until the evening meal, unless you have need of me.” It was the first day of his official new duties.

“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll send word if I have need of you again.” He nodded once and exited the room. She felt a loss with his removal of his presence, but decided it would be best if his time with her did not overlap with Lord Baelish too much. She wasn’t sure how much he’d actually be able to restrain himself, nor how much she could hide the relief of his presence.

Sandor

 

He gripped the hilt on his sword as he passed through the halls to get out to the yard. As he turned through the entry way he nearly ran into Little Finger. He would give anything to be able to gut that fucker stem to sternum but stayed himself. ‘In due time.’ But the look on Baelish’s face was priceless. The mask of lies that the man usually wore cracked, a look of shock with a glimmer of fear in his eyes. It was there for barely a moment before it was replaced with his usual simpering look. Sandor felt the hatred flicker through him and brought himself to his full height before turning on his heel to enter into the yard. If he was a kinder man he would feel pity for the green boys that were about to get pummeled in the sparring ring.

He was making his way back into the keep, weaving his way through groups of Vale men when he heard it, the first vile thing to come from some dumb cunt’s mouth.

“The imp had his ways with her, I’m sure! Then that Bolton bastard, why cover herself up in those dresses, might as well let us all have a look.” Guffaws cut through the air as the men had their laugh.

Sandor felt a hot flash of anger, felt it snapping at the tethers that held it in place when he spotted the group of men in their Vale sigils talking of the Lady of the North. He knew he couldn’t do anything. He swore to her he wouldn’t, but oh how he wanted to tear them limb from limb.

They continued on with their jokes before he could stop himself he walked over to the biggest of the 3 men.

“I suggest you shut your cunt mouths about the Lady.”

“Oi. What are you gonna do about it?”

Sandor sneered but before he could reply Tormund had arrived, towering over the other two.

“Well, he might not do anything cuz he’s new here. But I might gut ya where ya stand.” Eyes flashing madly, red hair askance.

The men got quiet, made their apologies and turned and left. Sandor nodded his approval to Tormund, then stalked off to his room. He knew he couldn’t kill every dumb fucker in Winterfell from talking bad about her, it would just be impossible. But oh how he would relish when those fools gallivanting as tough, honorable men would piss themselves with the wars to come.

 

Sansa

She tried to wait as long as possible to meet with Lord Baelish, deciding to meet with him during the midday meal in the great hall. When she arrived he was already seated next to her place at the head table. She wondered to herself what kept him from sitting in the head seat, especially in Jon’s absence. As she approached him she schooled her features to be cool and polite. She could not afford to show him what she really thought of him, nor could she be the open and carefree girl of her past.

“Lady Sansa, how I’ve missed you these past moon-turns. I see you have visitors.” He cooed at her.

“Yes,” She knew what he meant to say and decided to play coy “the brotherhood without banners. They will take up arms and defend us against the others“. She spoke in a bored tone, sure he was leading his way to speak of her new guard.

“I saw the Hound in the halls when I arrived this morning. I hope you are able to recall just how dangerous he is. He might be better served in your kennels, or with an axe to his neck. You never know who that dog is loyal to.” Baelish watched her as if waiting for her to agree, or continue seeking his advice. She was tired of him continuing to make attempts to control her.

“Please do not speak to me about the loyalty of hounds. If you recall I’ve seen them turn on vicious masters in the past.” She snipped, letting him know he had crossed a line.

Little Finger’s mask faltered and recovered.

“I wonder if you’ve reconsidered my offer.” He looked at her shrewdly then

“And what offer is that, Lord Baelish?” She said coolly.

Baelish looked around great hall then before returning his gaze to her.

“To be my wife and rule by my side.”

She was so tired of this game. Tired of him trying to wear her down, repeating himself like a child requesting a sweet.

“Lord Baelish, I’m afraid we’ve discussed this at length. I am not yet ready to re-enter into marriage and with Jon gone so frequently he cannot afford to have me married off to another Lord so quickly.” Sansa said, matter-of-factly. She had learned long ago that lying was not a strength, however, since then she’s learned that she can survive in half-truths.

“Now please excuse me, I have things to attend to before the evening meal.” She stood, Lady Brienne waiting to escort her at the steps of the dais.

As she entered her Solar Brienne shut the door behind her.

“What does he want this time My Lady?”

“The same that he always wants… power… and my dead mother.” She sighed, the weight of the day already resting heavily on her shoulders. “But he won’t get it. No matter what he does to try and lure me into his traps.”

“Lady Sansa, if I may…” Brienne shifted on her feet. Sansa motioned for her to continue. “Do you feel that th-Sandor will be an adequate guard while Lord Baelish is here? There are many men that we could put in his place, or I…”

Sansa cut her off then.

“He is the only one here, besides you that I trust to provide adequate security with Lord Baelish present. Although I trust Sandor with my life I am not sure that frequent interactions with Lord Baelish is wise, especially so soon after his arrival. They know each other well from Kings Landing and I know that Sandor can’t stand him. I will neither risk Sandor nor the North, just to ease anyone’s sense of propriety.” She eyed Brienne then, knowing that Brienne’s concern was about more than mere physical well-being. Brienne had caught her several times watching Sandor from afar.

Brienne remained quiet but nodded her head, Sansa could tell she wanted to say something but knew better than to argue with the Lady of the Keep.

Sansa had just picked up some sewing when Talia entered the solar.

“Mi’ Lady is there anythin’ I can do for you this evening?”

“Yes Talia. Can you please have a bath prepared for me after dinner, it’s been a long day already. Come late for me tomorrow morning, maybe I’ll be able to sleep in again.” She caught Brienne’s head turn sharply toward her at that statement. At that Talia turned and left.

“You’ve been sleeping better?” She already looked suspicious.

“Just last night… I was able to fall back asleep for once after…” Sansa looked down to her embroidery feeling a crimson flush sweep across her cheeks.

“Oh? Dare I ask what was different?”

“Sandor heard me scream, he came in talked to me about my dream that was all. He stayed until I was a back to sleep and then was gone when I woke up.” Another half-truth.

Brienne’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “If he took advantage...”

Sansa cut her off then, her temper up. “He has done and will do no such thing. He would do nothing with my person that I do not allow.”

Brienne had the good sense to appear guilty and look away. “I beg your pardon Lady Sansa, I did not mean to insult you.”

“Then do not question Sandor’s presence or role in the North.”

“Yes, My Lady.”


	5. Podrick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is just a really short Podrick chapter until I get all of my ducks in a row for the next part of the story. It's a tad lighter than it's been so far.

 

Podrick was making his way through the yard, he had just finished his training with Tormund.  He had heard the laughter of men and watched the interaction of Lord Clegane and the men of the Vale.  He felt his lips pull into a smile then, those men were part of Lord Baelish’s guard.  They were rude about the Lady last time, too.

When Lord Baelish was about he felt the need to be invisible, not that that was a difficult task for him.  As a squire he had an ability to blend into the background anyway, the only people that seemed to have ever noticed him, prior to Lady Brienne, were Lord Tyrion and Bronn.  To be honest he was quite surprised the other day when Lord Clegane had recognized him.  But being invisible was key when Lord Baelish was about, it allowed him to keep his ears open and to hear things others didn’t, or couldn’t. 

It was after the evening meal that Brienne startled him by asking him to speak in private.  He was helping her to remove her armor then.  As far as he knew they already were in private.  But he agreed and made sure the door was shut after checking the hall for listening ears.

“What do you know of Sandor Clegane?”

He tilted his head and his eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion. “Mi’ Lady?”

Brienne rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance at him.

“Podrick, what are your experiences of Sandor Clegane from Kings Landing, in regards to Lady Sansa.”

Oh, now he understood. He thought he had told her plenty while they were on the road searching for the Stark girls.

“Well, according to Lord Tyrion, he never hit her.  Unlike the other Kings Guard.”  He pursed his lips in thought.  “He went back and saved her during the bread riots, even though nobody told him to, and even though King Joffrey refused to send anyone to go look for her.”

Brienne was looking scandalized at what he was bringing up, he supposed they were so focused on what Sansa had been through once she first returned to Winterfell that maybe the things from Kings Landing weren’t mentioned. 

“Go on, Podrick.”

He must have been lost in thought for too long, again.

“He would often escort her around the keep…?” He said it more as a question, unsure what more she was asking of him.

She huffed in annoyance again.

“I... I’m not sure what you’re asking me to say Mi’ Lady.  If Lady Sansa trusts him, then that may have to be enough.  She’s had enough experiences with him in the South that she should know if she can trust him or not. He did speak up for her in the yard today against some Knights from the Vale.”

She quirked her eyebrow and seemed to quiet at the last bit.  Maybe, she would finally trust Lord Clegane now. He had always felt uneasy when Lord Baelish was lurking about, but with Lord Clegane here he felt like there was a bit more of an advantage.  Although, he wouldn’t admit that to Lady Brienne if he could help it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THanks for Kudos and Comments guys. This ship is so supportive you all really know how to make a girl feel welcome! Another major chapter will hopefully be completed by the end of the weekend.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa

She felt sick.  She was seated for dinner when Lord Baelish appeared in the seat next to her.  He had been late, which was unusual, she was sure to take note of that.  She always made sure to meet with him in public, in the great hall, in the yard, in her solar with a guard or the council present  She hoped that the rules of decorum would dictate that he keep his distance.  But he always found ways to touch her.  Her elbow, her hands, her hair, he even went so far as to touch the small of her back or her waist.  It made her sick, she shuddered in revulsion every time.  Now he was touching her arm, she grimaced.  Part of her knew that this was his typical game. The other part felt like he was making a show for her new guard which stood at the end of the dais near the steps.  From the corner of her eye she could see him tense, see him grip his sword.  She noted the blank almost bored look that was just this side of severe.  She took notice of the restraint he used. She would guess that it was barely constrained at this point and rather than losing all over a few of Petyr’s slimy touches, she begged her leave to retire early.

“But it so early My Lady, may I escort you to your chambers?” He simpered at her.

“No.  Thank you.”  She nearly forgot her courtesies, that wouldn’t do.  “I have my guard.  It’s been a trying few days.  Too much excitement I’m afraid.  I’ll speak with you tomorrow.””

His eyes narrowed just the barest of fractions.

“Very well, until tomorrow then.”  He rose with her then, guiding her by the small of her back toward the steps.  She shuddered and quickened her step to avoid as much of the unwelcome contact as she could.

She watched the anger, like lighting, flash in his eyes.  Unsure at whom it was directed this time.  Definitely Little Finger, possibly her for playing this dangerous game, or maybe the fact that she had to play games at all.

She felt his gaze on her as she walked two steps ahead of him, a reminder of times gone by. When she got to her room he entered to ensure that it was secure before he stepped out about to close the door. 

“You barely touched your food.  I’ll send a maid to bring you something.”

She opened her mouth to decline but he cut her off.

“You need to eat something, I’ll not have you waste away because of that cunt.”  She drew her lips in a defiant line, but nodded her head in defeat.

“Yes, thank you.”  She noticed he stiffened at her thanks but didn’t outright reject this one.  He nodded and left her to her bath and her thoughts.

 

Sandor

 

All through dinner his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.  He had memories of the Lion’s Den, of watching her be mistreated and not being able to do anything about it.  This felt very much the same. He watched that little prick touch her.  Watched her grimace and shudder at the unwanted attention.  He watched her pick at her food, she barely touched it.  He knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that desperately needed to be won, not just for the north but for humanity in general.  A less obedient man would have stolen her in the night and put her on a ship to Essos.

 

But disobedient he wasn’t, not to her.  He would not kill Baelish until she ordered it.  Even if it meant watching him touch her, one day he would get his chance and he would relish in it.  Until then he would relish is beating Baelish’s men bloody in the training yard.

He could hear the occasional splashing from the Bird in her bath while he stood outside her door.  When one of the chamber maids walked by he asked her to bring food for the Lady.  She complied and scurried off.  Aside from the men he regularly bested in training he noticed that very few people looked at him in fear here.  They may look guarded, but it was not the open fear and disgust that he had experienced throughout his life.   He had a feeling the girl with the fiery hair had something to do with that. 

 

He was in the middle of a staring contest with a brick across from him when the chambermaid returned with a tray.  He realized it was the same one that brought him clothes on his first morning here.  She peeked at him before going to the door and knocked.

“Mi’ Lady, your tray.” He heard a mumble from the other side of the door.  The maid opened the door disappearing behind it.  She was gone for a few minutes before coming out.  Peeking at him again with a shy smile and a blush. He frowned at her in confusion, this was certainly not a reaction he was used to.

No sooner had her chambermaid left, than did Sansa appear from behind her door.

“Did you eat?”  Her hair was wet and plaited in long braid that was swept over her shoulder and wearing a dressing gown.

“Aye, Little Bird.  Though that food was for you, not me.” He looked at her sternly.

“I am well aware, ser.”  The last was said with a smirk, he chuckled and shook his head at her jab.

“Come join me while I eat, keep me company.” A blush crept up her cheeks and her teeth tugged on her lower lip, whether in her embarrassment or fear of rejection he couldn’t say.  However, he already told himself that he would never reject her. 

Nodding his assent he checked the hall for prying eyes before following her into her chamber, ensuring that he closed the door behind him.

 ---------------------------------------------------

 

Sansa

Sansa had felt better soaking in the tub, when Talia came with her tray.  Seeing that it was enough for two people let alone just herself she let herself feel bold.  She allowed Talia to assist in dressing her in her shift, dressing gown, and putting her hair in a braid.  Talia gave her a knowing look at her commands, seeing her change in her typical evening routine. 

“He seems to genuinely care for you m’lady.” Talia looked away shyly at her bold statement, afraid that she had pushed too far.

“I believe he does, in his own way.” She wouldn’t presume anything about the way this man felt for her.  Although she felt he may love her, she knew he was also a hard man who probably had little to no experience with giving and receiving more tender feelings.

Talia left and she steadied herself with a deep breath, fearful of rejection.

When he accepted her invitation she almost felt giddy, he followed her in and she offered him a seat at her little table.

“I know you said you ate, but please have something.  She sent entirely too much.  There’s no possible way I can finish it all.”  The meal was simple.  Cheese, bread, some dried fruit and left over pastries from the evening meal.

“I want to thank you for your cooperation in dealing with Little Finger this evening, I could see how difficult that was for you.”  He looked unsettled and shifted uncomfortably.

“You don’t owe me any thanks Little Bird.” He grumbled.

“No, I do.  Whether you accept or not that’s what I’m giving you.”  She jutted her chin up in defiance and eyed him, waiting for him to continue.

His mouth twitched and he settled back into his chair, sipping on a cup of wine.

“I didn’t like it.” He suddenly said. “I understand where you’re coming from.  I see you trying to lay traps for him… It doesn’t mean I still don’t want to gut the fucker every time he touches you.  I can see you hate it.”  Setting the cup roughly down on the table.  “You’re playing a dangerous game.”  He stated matter-of-factly.

She let out a breath, looking at him sadly. “I know.  Jon has told me the same thing.  Unless you have some piece of information that I can present to the Lords of the Vale to ensure their loyalty, there is nothing I can do to remove him.”

She watched him look down at his hands in his lap.  He was quiet for a while before he looked up at her with a questioning look on his face.

“What is it?” her face contorting into confusion.

He let out a deep sigh.  “When your father was taken prisoner in Kings Landing Baelish held a dagger to your father’s throat.  He’s the one that helped to orchestrate the plot against your father.  I’m not sure if that will be enough to sway the Lords but it might be more than what you have.”

She felt the tears prick at her eyes at this, she had always blamed the Lannisters.  She never thought about the influence other players might have.  Stupid girl.  She knew that Petyr Baelish was a snake waiting for the best opportunity to strike, but with her reliance on him she refused to see connections that were not obvious. Her eyes began to well, tears flowing down her cheeks at the realization that she had allowed her father’s true killer to be so close to her.  In a flash of movement that was hard to decipher with the tears in her eyes, Sandor had knelt at her side, dabbing her cheeks with a piece of cloth.

Sniffing she collected herself.  Taking the cloth from Sandor’s hand to wipe her eyes. It was then that there was a knock on the door, Sandor tearing himself away from her side to answer it.  She could hear Sandor talking to another man, tones hushed.  Sandor shut the door and came in.

“It appears you have more visitors Little Bird.  Someone claiming to be your little brother.”  Her eyes widened in surprise before flying out of her chair to the door.  She was about to open it when a large hand came and denied her.

“Slow down Little Bird.  I don’t feel comfortable letting you fly off into a trap.  Once I’m sure he’s your brother then you can be excited to have him back in your little nest.”  She stiffened and opened her mouth to complain and order him to get out of her way, before she came to the realization that he was just doing his job.  Doing his best to protect her and keep her safe.  She took a deep breath, turned to the hook by her door and donned her heavy cloak.  Sandor was about to let her lead him through the halls when she took his arm, she could feel herself tremble.  She could feel her heart beat wildly in her chest in anticipation of what may await her in the yard.  She dared not to unleash her last remaining hope that Bran was alive, for fear that it would be crushed to bits.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to move things along a bit before we get to the good stuff.

Sandor

Sandor was tense as he escorted Sansa to the front gates.  He wouldn’t allow himself to let his guard down in case this was some trap.  He was thankful for the new mail that was completed for him today, although his sword was still subpar, he would need to make do with what he had.  He could feel her tense as they neared the gate, they could see a cart surrounded by guards. 

As they neared the torches and fires in the yard let their light on the individual sitting in the back of a cart.  A wilding girl standing to the side looking tense and ready to attack any threats to herself or the boy he could now see more clearly in the cart.  He eyed Sansa, waiting for any signs that she recognized the person as her brother or a threat.  Her fingers clutching at the sleeve of his surcoat.

She froze, her eyes became wide and glassy.  Before he knew it she was out of his reach and kneeling in the back of the cart clutching the boy to her.  As he looked on the scene he could see how the boy had features similar to Sansa’s, hair similar to the wolf girl’s.  He was relieved for Sansa, realizing how lonely her life had been for her since the loss of her family, knowing how it had impacted her younger sister.  He wondered if Arya was alive and hoped that she was.  As he watched their intimate family moment, too intimate for the watching eyes in the yard, he wondered if this was what a family was really meant to be… hope, relief, and acceptance. 

It was then that Podrick came up behind him. That kid was like a ghost at times appearing as if from nowhere.

“Clegane, who is that?”

Sandor eyed him and looked back at the family scene.

“The Lady’s wolf brother.  It might be best to go get that chambermaid of hers to get some rooms ready for the young Lord and his companion.  Food and a bath too, hard to say when they had a proper meal last.”

Podrick looked back at him then.  Probably not expecting such a command from him, he didn’t care, Sansa’s brother was home and he would have a proper reception, just as he had received when he arrived not a sennight ago. 

“Be sure to tell Brienne she’ll have an extra charge to keep an eye on tomorrow, it’d not do to have something happen to him after he’s just been returned home.”

It was then that he remembered the injury the boy had received on his first visit to Winterfell.  He made the few remaining steps to the cart and placed his hand on Sansa’s shoulder.  The wilding girl next to the cart tensed at his approach.  She was prepared to defend the young lord and he respected her for that.

Sansa moved out of his way while he picked up the little lord wrapped up in his furs.  He weighed next to nothing as he carried him to the family wing. 

“You’re the Hound, Sandor Clegane.” The boy said as a statement, not a question, and not said in surprise. 

Sandor looked down at him then.  “Aye.”  Hairs on his neck standing up.  He looked away, shaking his head to get rid of the uneasy feeling.

“You are a wolf, too.  You bring her joy.”  Sandor was uncomfortable and had no idea what this kid was talking about.  He looked ahead for the rest of the walk to the family quarters

He was relieved to see that Podrick had a room ready so he placed the lad on his bed leaving his cane and comfort to Sansa and the other women folk fussing about the room.

He turned nodded to Sansa “I’ll be just outside the door, if you need anything.”  She nodded obviously overwhelmed with the turn of events.   

It had been over an hour.  The chambermaids had come and gone with the bath, the lad’s companion had gone off to her own chambers.  Apparently she was one of those frogs from the neck.  It was then he had heard a rustling down the hall and he turned.  He saw Little Finger slinking his way toward him.  He turned, tensing, hand going to the hilt of his sword.  

“Ah, hound.  I didn’t expect you to be on guard duty, I figured you’d be enjoying some ale at this time.  I’ve come to see what all the commotion was about, and that Lady Sansa is alright.”  Sandor said nothing, refusing to give the wee prick any purchase in this conversation.

“Is the Lady still up? I request to speak with her.”  He eyed the door that Sandor stood in front of suspiciously, almost as if he knew it was a room that had previously been empty.

Sandor stared hard at the pathetic excuse in front of him.  “The Lady is taking no visitors this evening, if you have business to attend to you’ll have to wait until morning.”

He could feel his jaw clenching, saw visions of how he would finally get to end the little fucker flashed through his mind.  And to think rumor had it that the hound was dead, apparently not when threats to his Little Bird roamed about.

Petyr smirked at him then.  “But the Lady and I are friends, surely she would not object to my presence.”

Sandor took a step closer to stand over Little Finger then.  “I don’t care if you’re her mother come again, she’ll have no visitors tonight.  I suggest you go back to your own chambers and mind your own business for once.”

Petyr sneered at Sandor. “The Lady will hear about this” before turning on his heel to leave. 

 

It was another hour or so before Sansa appeared in the doorway, ready to be escorted the few paces to her room. 

“I heard you and Petyr speaking in the hall, thank you.  I want you to know that I appreciate your presence here.”

He nodded when she looked up at him, but remained silent.  She looked back at the door she had just came from.

“There’ll be no need to worry about the lad tonight, girl.  I won’t let anyone get to him any more than I’d let them get to you” She nodded, looking thoughtful. 

“I know, good night, Sandor.”  And disappeared behind her door.

Sansa

She settled under the covers thinking about the turn of the day’s events.  In one day Jon had left and Bran had returned.  She was so happy to see him sitting in that cart that she threw caution to the win and ran to embrace him.  It helped her to feel less alone with his arrival, she was no longer the lone Stark in Winterfell with Jon gone.

She remembered what her father would say, as the lone wolf dies, the pack survives. 

However, Bran had been strange, distant even.  It had been several years since she had last seen him, and they had both been through some terrible things.  Part of her pushed it away, as an uneasiness with displaying emotions due to their time apart.  Although there were times while they were catching up that it seemed as if Bran could see through her present self and into her past self, she found it quite unsettling. Hopefully things would be more comfortable tomorrow after some rest, she had agreed to meet with him in the God’s wood.

She was pleased when she was able to go about her morning business and found that the craftsmen of Winterfell had come together and were able to put together a wheeled chair for Bran.  It spoke to how much they thought of her family, that a boy that they had never met, was cared for without anyone needing to ask. 

She was sitting in the high Lords meeting listening to them complain about Jon’s absence.  She tried to quiet them as best she could, but it took Lyanna Mormont to quell them into accepting that the north needed more allies than they currently had, especially with the expected numbers of the dead marching towards the wall. 

As she left the meeting Petyr approached her in the hall.  “I hear you had a visitor last night.”

Her spine straightened, seeing the trap but not seeing the purpose.  She instantly wanted to protect her brother from this slithering creature before her.  The memory of what Sandor told her the night before slamming into her.

“Yes, my brother Bran has returned home.  Now, if you excuse me I have some much needed catching up to do with him.”  She nodded to Brienne and left Petyr standing unsatisfied in the hall. 

When she entered the God’s Wood Bran was waiting for her in his chair, accompanied by Podrick.  He was sitting under the weirwood tree.  She settled herself on the bench next to him, Brienne and Podrick within sight but out of earshot, leaving them to some semblance of privacy.  Sandor had been insistent on tightening up their guard detail since his arrival, he would be choosing a guard for Bran today. 

“How was your first night back?” She asked him.

He looked at her as if just noticing her.  “To be honest I don’t sleep much anymore.” 

“You know” she sighed unsure how to broach the topic “You would have more rights to be Lord of Winterfell over Jon.  He would never keep your birthright from you.”  She said it in earnest but felt like she was betraying her older brother none the less. 

“I can’t be the Lord of Winterfell.  I am the Three Eyed Raven.”  He said it so matter-of-factly as though she understood what that meant.

“I don’t know what that means.” It made her feel stupid.

“It means that I can see things, the past, the present, and the future.” 

She huffed a laugh, he has to be joking.

“I don’t understand you.”

“I saw you, in the past, at the Red Keep.  I saw that despite being a lone wolf, you were not always without a pack mate.” 

Her heart jumped in her chest, racing a dangerous rhythm, her breath quickening. 

He didn’t wait for her to respond before he continued.  “I’m sorry for the pain you suffered here, at the hands of your husband. I saw the wedding it was so beautiful with your dress, the snow, and the red leaves of the weirwood tree.  Beautiful enough to hide the monster within him.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes, unable to look away from her brother.  Unsure if she should lash out at him to make him stop.  She was afraid of the rest he could reveal, but curious all the same. 

“You’re afraid.  You need time to understand but you will.”  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to shake him and tell him to quit what must be this awful jape, or run from this creature that inhabited her brother’s body.  Her formerly joyful and adventurous brother.  She realized then she could do neither.  Just as she had been through things and changed from the girl she used to be, her brother had gone on his own journey.  A journey that seemed more like one of Old Nan’s stories but with the others coming for them beyond the wall, maybe they were not merely stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but to compare Podrick to Radar from MASH and now that I've imagined it I can't un-imagine it.


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa 

It had been several days since Bran’s return and she was feeling restless.  She had not gotten to spend much time with Sandor despite him being on duty after the evening meal.  She had spent many of her evenings with Bran and hadn’t woken from any nightmares.  She still awoke early, before the sun broke over the horizon, but Brienne had taken over by then. 

After the morning council meeting where nothing was decided but Petyr had puffed himself up to a level of importance that only he could imagine, she felt the need to escape the cage that Jon’s solar had become.  She had arranged for Brienne to accompany Bran to the God’s Wood, this was no small feat.  Brienne still expressed a level of responsibility over her and was reluctant to relinquish it to Sandor.  However, with Bran present it seemed to provide a reasonable excuse.

She approached Sandor who had just finished sparring in the yard. He was wiping the sweat off of his brow with his back to her.

“What are you doing flitting about Little Bird?”  It was one of those moments where she thought he knew where she was without even seeing or hearing her.

“I would like to go riding, I would like it if you would accompany me.  Brienne is with Bran in the God’s wood at the moment.”

He cocked his good eye brow at her, she questioned if he was going to deny her.

“Aye, girl.  I’ll take you.  Let me go change, have one of the lads in the stable ready our horses.”

She did as he requested, but before they left she had a gift to give him.  So flying through the yard and halls of her home she got back to her rooms before Sandor left his.  She exited with a bundle of fur and fabric.   She felt a surge of nerves at her offering.

When he exited his room he genuinely look surprised to see her.  She approached him holding out the heavy bundle in front of her.  He took it, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.  

“What’s this little bird?”

“A cloak fit for a true northerner.  I see the surcoat I made for you has been put to good use.  However, this took longer.  Try it on please.  I want to see how it fits.”

Unclasping the tattered cloak he had arrived in and tossing it unceremoniously into his room, he gently unwrapped his bundle.  The pelts around the shoulders and neck were from a wolf.  The cloak long, dark and woolen.  Leather straps secured it around the chest.  It was similar to the one she had made for Jon. 

“Many thanks Sansa. But I…”  He looked at her then, seemingly unsure

She smiled brightly at him.

“No buts, and I have no need of your thanks.”  She japed. “It’ll do no good to have my guard freeze in the winter.  Nor will I have you mistaken as a southerner.”

He barked a laugh, securing the garment.  It was then that he seemed to notice the embroidery just under the drape of the furs on his chest.  A direwolf on his left side (surreptitiously placed over his heart) and the three hounds on a field of yellow on the other, each canine accompanied by a little bird. He touched the adornments reverently then. 

She stepped closer to him smoothing out the fabrics and furs along the shoulders, it left room for his armor and the length was a sure fit.  Her memory of a cloak she had long ago had served her well.

He cleared his throat, bringing her back to herself. 

“If we’re to be back before dark, I suggest we get going, Little Bird.”   His voice taking on a deeper note than usual.

She nodded her assent, taking his arm to walk toward the stables. 

As they approached their horses she could see Little finger out of the corner of her eye on the upper floor of the keep, watching them in the yard.  She pulled herself closer to Sandor for just a moment, before parting from him so he could assist her onto her horse.  A small, dark part of her hoped that Little Finger would take notice of her attentions and Sandor’s new attire.  She wanted him to feel the sting of rejection before she took his life.  She wanted to turn the tables on the cat and mouse game she had unwillingly been a part of.

Sandor

Sandor had picked Sansa up by her waist and put her in the saddle, she let out a chirp of surprise which made him chuckle.

When he arrived at Winterfell he was told to take his pick of the unclaimed horses.  He picked a hot tempered courser.  It reminded him of Stranger, but this stallion had taken less fingers.  He had been working with it every day between training and guard duties. He was pleased that he could finally get it out of the keep and stretch its legs.

Sandor settled onto his horse giving it a rub on its neck.  He hadn’t named it yet, the stable hands called it shadow cat due to its dark coloring and fierce attitude.  After their first interactions the courser didn't seem to mind him so much.

When they made it out of the gate Sansa flew by him on her mare.  Laughing, cloak billowing and red hair streaking behind her, he thought it was the first time he’d genuinely heard her laugh since his return.  He gave chase urging his courser to catch up to her which it gladly did.  She eventually slowed down making her way toward the Wolf’s wood.  Her cheeks were pink from the exertion and the cold.  Her breath coming in bursts of mist from her mouth.  She made a lovely sight, one that he would never tire of. 

“Tired of your cage little bird?” a note of mischievousness in his voice his lip quirked into a grin.

She looked at him then, her eyes sparkling. “Aye.” He could tell she was biting back another laugh at her jape.

Shaking his head he chuckled.  “So where are we going?”

“There’s some hunter’s trails in the wood that we can follow, if it please you ser?”

He barked a laugh at that.  “So this is how it’s going to be today is it?  Japes and barbs? You’re turning more and more into that wolf of a sister of yours every day.”

She peeked at him then, her smile softening. “I’m glad of it.  She was so fierce.”

He nodded his understanding to her.  “You’re a different type of fierce.  She was a wolf through and through, you have talons hiding under those pretty feathers of yours.”

They were silent for a while as he followed her on the trail.  They spoke of some of their time apart, he of his travels with Arya, her of her time in the Red Keep without him.

He could feel his ire rising at the mention of her first wedding, which she seemed to notice.

“He was good to me, Lord Tyrion.”  This surprised him, unless her second husband skewed her view on what defined a good man.

He pressed her further. “How so?”

“He never touched me, the marriage was a sham. I was able to have it annulled by a Septon due to it never being consummated.”  He was surprised to know this, he always imagined the imp as a lecher who would prey on her beauty and innocence, not be respectful of her wishes.

They rode in silence for a while, until the horses started to get restless.  He sits up in the saddle, alert, drawing his sword and pushing his cloak back from his shoulders, ready for whatever the horses were sensing.  It was then when Sansa gave a yell and he saw the shadow move.  It happened all too quickly, one moment Sansa was ahead of him in the saddle, the next she was on the ground, her horse disappeared from underneath her streaking up the trail.

Then it came into focus, a shadow cat, looming over the girl. He swung down of the horse ready fight it, jumping between her and the beast. It swung its great paw hitting him across the arm.  He thrusted then, into the beast’s ribcage, ending its fight.

Sheathing his sword he turned quickly to Sansa who lay in a heap in the snow.  He ghosted his hands over her, unsure where she was injured.  He was relieved that she was still breathing and that there was no blood on her.  Taking her head in his hands he didn’t feel any bumps, moving down her neck and shoulders nothing seemed out of place.  He checked her arms then, and that’s when he noticed the swelling in her wrist, it was sprained and possibly broken. He breathed in deeply to temper his rage.  Moving down her body toward her legs, nothing appeared out of place but they would have to wait until back at the castle to get her boots off.  She stirred then as he trailed his eyes back up to her face.  Her brow wrinkled in discomfort.

“Sandor” She mumbled, squinting at him through her lashes .

“Shhh, Little Bird.  You’re safe.” He rasped gently to her “Let’s get you back to the keep so a Maester can have a look at you, eh?”

It was a miracle his horse hadn’t run off in the chaos.  He scooped her up cradling her to him and lifted her up into the saddle, before swinging up behind her.  He felt her body limply sink into his chest pulling his cloak around them to help keep her warm.  After a fright like that and an injury it was not unheard of for someone to go into shock.

He steered the horse through the woods as quickly as he could, not wanting to risk the horse an injury and losing their only way back to Winterfell.  If the worst happened he would carry her there himself.

When he made it to the clearing he gripped the girl tighter to himself, and worked the horse into a gallop toward the keep. 

He made it through the gates, ordering someone to fetch the Maester to her chambers.  That her horse had been spooked and she got thrown.  He swung himself down, lifting her down after.  He cradled her to his chest, and stomped off toward the family quarters.  Angry at himself for letting this happen to her.  That she was no safer with him than she had been before his arrival. 

When he got to her room he pushed the door open and made toward the bed.  He lay her down as gently as possible and draping a fur over her to keep her warm until the maester arrived.  The chambermaid appeared in the door, a look of concern washed over her young face. 

“Mi’ lord?” she looked at him in question. 

“Get that fire going for the Lady and stay here for when the Maester comes in case he needs anything.”

She nodded and set to work.  Eyeing him as she stoked the fire.

“What is it?”  He growled at her.  

She looked away from him then, eyeing her work.  “There’s blood ser.”

He looked Sansa over again seeing blood on her skirts, how did he miss that before. 

“No, ser you misunderstand.”  The girl said as if almost in a panic. “Your arm is bleeding.”

That’s when he remembered the swipe of a paw, the cut.  He looked at himself and for the first time noticed the mess of his sleeve.  He backed away from Sansa afraid to dirty her further. 

“It’s nothing, a scratch.” He rumbled low.

She appeared as if about to say something but was interrupted by the flurry of robes that burst through the door.

The Maester came in.  Asking questions about what happened and moving over the lady checking her injuries.  He fussed over her fractured wrist, when he took off her boots he noticed that she had a sprained her ankle in the fall, as well.  He asked about whether or not she had fainted or had hit her head.  Sandor felt powerless that he couldn’t tell him.  She had been awake at some point after, saying his name, looking at him.  The Maester checked her head over again at this.  Stating that it was most likely faint from the shock of events.  The Maester shooed him out then, begging the chambermaid to stay and help make the lady more comfortable and to clean her up.

Sandor stayed outside her door, not moving from his place. 

It was then that Brienne came storming down the hall, huffing and puffing, Podrick trailing behind.

“What happened Clegane?” She demanded.

“She fell from her horse, it got spooked by a shadow cat in the wolf’s wood.” He grumbled.

“I knew she shouldn’t have left the keep, I told her it was safer to stay here.  And if you could not protect her what is the point of you even guarding her, ser?” The last word was said dripping with contempt.  Her pent up anger and animosity bubbling to the surface.  

This got his ire back up. “Oh, Aye. Keep the bird locked in her cage and never let her out.  You’re no better than the rest before you.” 

She looked as if he had struck her then.  She looked about ready to continue the volley when Podrick interrupted her.

“Mi’Lady. Look.”  He pointed to Sandor’s arm.

Brienne did as he bid, saw the blood dripping down his clenched fist.  Her eyes widened in self-reproach. 

“I see, I apologize for my outburst.  Please, send someone for me when the Lady is ready to receive visitors.”  She turned on her heel and stalked back down the hallway.  Podrick eyed him sadly before turning and following big woman back to wherever they had come from.

It was then the Maester came out of the room.

“Come and let’s have a look at those cuts.”  He noticed Sandor’s hesitation to leave his charge.

“Her maid is with her and we’ll just be down the hall.  It’d serve her no good to have that cut get infected.”

Sandor nodded warily and followed him to his room to get cleaned up.

It had taken some ointment and several stiches before he was able to return to his post. The Maester had suggested milk of the Poppy and rest, to have another take his post but he refused. Sansa had not yet woken and he was concerned for her. 

The young Lord showed little concern for his sister’s state, “She’ll wake when she is ready to do so.  And not before.” As if giving a statement on the weather or the arrival of a raven.  The boy unnerved him at times.

Sandor had one of the men he trusted to stand guard in the hall while he sat at her bedside.  He would not have her awaken alone and afraid after what had happened.

It was quite late when the chambermaid returned to check on the state of her Lady.

“I brought you a tray ser.” She set it on a table near him but he did not move to touch it.  “The Lady would insist that you eat some’tin.” It was a mere suggestion and although he knew she was right, he couldn’t bring himself to eat.  “A’ least have the broth, ser.  T’ help keep your strength up for the Lady when she awakes.  She cares deeply for yah ser, and I’ll not have her frettin’ over yah when she needs get better herself.”  He glowered at her then, he watched her shrink into herself afraid of his reaction.  “Pardons, if I offended ya ser, but I speak the truth.” He appraised her then, a small slip of a girl, but she seemed to fiercely care for the bird, which he respected above all else.

“You chirp almost as much as your Lady, a nest of birds she’s got for herself here.”  He huffed a laugh.  She cocked her head at his comment. “Aye, you’ve the right of it.  I’ll eat, and I’ll thank you for the tray all the same.  Now off with yah, she’ll need you come morning to fuss and chirp over her, I’m sure.”   At that she nodded and left him to his watch.


	9. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little Brienne chapter. We'll get back to some mushy sansan in a just a moment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm kind of hard on Brienne when I write, mainly cuz I'm not thrilled with all of her decisions... but hopefully this will help move things toward a more agreeable Brienne

Brienne

She was pacing their sitting room when Podrick had returned from his duty with Bran, Sansa said that it had formerly been a nursery, a room that connected the nurse maid’s room to the younger Children’s bedroom.

“Any word?”

He turned toward her at her question. “No, Mi’ Lady.  Clegane had put another guard in the hall when I returned Lord Bran after dinner.  Clegane, himself has taken to sitting at her sick bed.”

She stopped stunned, she felt her mouth gaping at the statement.  “Does he not realize how improper that is?”

Podrick shrugged at her, “Knowing him my Lady, he probably doesn’t care about that.” He sighed and continued.  “Lord Bran, refused to sit with her.  Stating that she would wake when she is ready to.  He told me that she is in no danger, and that Sandor is more than welcome to sit with her.  Wait no, that he is _meant_ to sit with her.”  He went about his duties of tidying up the room and putting away his fresh clothes from the laundry.

Brienne was getting tired of the cryptic way Podrick talked about his charge.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“No idea my lady.”

Letting out a long sigh she continued, feeling irritable “How does he know about the Lady’s wellbeing, he isn’t a Maester.”

Podrick tilted his head, appearing to mull over her question.  “I think he has a gift my Lady.  The free folk talk about wargs and skin changing and the way he talks, I wonder if he is able to.”

She rolled her eyes at him.  “You can’t honestly believe in those old Nursery tales.”

He frowned then, looking down at the oil cloth in his hand, attending to her armor.  “Well, they say that there are dragons making their way to Westeros and we are on the verge of fighting the others to save the world.  I think that being able to see the world from the eyes of another isn’t the strangest of those things.”

She stopped and looked at him in awe then.  She couldn’t say whether or not she believed him about the visions of the youngest stark, but he had made his point.  Although, if she was being honest with herself she couldn’t tell if it was lack of proof of lack or a lack of wanting that kept her from believing.

“I need some air Pod, I’ll be back in a while.”

She grabbed her cloak to leave.

“Yes, Mi’Lady.”

It was late for her to be out, due to the early hour of her guard duties she was usually to bed by now. 

She took to walking the battlements watching the dark expanse of the north.  Today had been a terrifying day.  When there was first word that Sansa had been hurt she had felt that she had again failed Sansa’s mother.  She was at turns angry with herself, then with Clegane taking for her on that blasted ride.  He had been right though.  There was no point in protecting her if she wasn’t allowed to live her life.  Oath or no Sansa had every right to live her life as she saw fit.  She didn’t like the way her and Clegane looked at each other too familiarly, and spoke too intimately.  But she supposed that was not a choice for her to make either.  She would support Lady Sansa on making a good match for herself when the time came and she chose to wed again, if she chose to wed again. But she would not express herself as sternly as she had when Sandor first appeared if he ended up being her choice. 

As she walked along the battlements she watched as a lone horse and rider contrasted against the backdrop of northern snow.  There was no details out and the hunting party that had been sent out earlier had returned.  The only men encamped that far out were some of the Vale men.

She walked down the battlements making her way toward the stables, awaiting to see who had arrived at the gate.  She hadn’t seen Little Finger all day and had grown suspicious of his whereabouts when he didn’t come calling for Lady Sansa, nor had Sandor had to murder him for attempting to. She smirked to herself at that thought. She wondered if this would explain his absence.  

When she entered the stables it had appeared empty of people, just horses in stalls.  There were several empty stalls. She found one that had no straw down and decided to wait it out when she was approached from behind, the person taking her elbow in hand. 

Brienne swung around coming face to face with Tormund.  In her need for stealth she covered his mouth with her hand and pulled him into the stall with her.  She shushed at him and told him to get down.  Which he did without much fuss.  It was then that she glimpsed Little finger putting his horse to stall, moving toward the bunk room to wake the stable boys.  It was as Little Finger was leaving that she felt hands on her waist. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she said shocked at his presumptuousness.

“I thought you lured me in here to take a tumble.”  Tormund stated, eye brow cocked, smiling cockily.

She huffed in offence “Most certainly not.  I came in here to see what Little Finger was up to.” He cocked his head then.

“The little slimy man with the bird on his chest?” He said in question, rising from the ground head tilted.

“Yes, him.”

“My men saw him leave this morning, alone.  Jon has told us to keep a special eye on him, that he and his men are not to be trusted.”

“That would be the right of it.  What have you discovered?”

“Ah, that I can’t tell you.  When I have enough on him I am to tell his lucky sister.  She is to make decisions from there.”

“His lucky sister?”  Brienne was confused, there was a lot of ways to describe Sansa but lucky wasn’t really one of them.

“Aye, she’s kissed by fire,” he touched his hair “that means she’s lucky.  Everyone kissed be fire is lucky” He winked at her.

“Why does it make you lucky?” she was confused by this saying.

He chuckled low “Kiss me and find out my beauty.”

Half disgusted, half annoyed she made an exasperated noise and pushed by him and left the stall leaving Tormund and his crude humor in her wake. 

She couldn’t understand that man.  Always staring at her, as if she didn’t get enough of that.  He was good to the Starks though so she was pleased that there were another set of eyes watching out for the family.

She would need to tell Pod, he’d been doing well with blending in in the training yard in the morning.  He was able to get all kinds of information and hear gossip, not that it was always useful.  She knew Little Finger wouldn’t travel far alone. Either he went to Wintertown or he had men that went with him from the Vale encampment. She would find out.


	10. Chapter 10

Sandor

It was late into the night as he sat hunched over her bed.  The low burning of the fire barely left enough light for him to see her.  His elbow resting on the mattress he held her small frail hand in his big rough one, his other hand had found a home on the pillow resting above the crown of her head in a nest of her hair.  He couldn’t bear the thought that she might feel alone, she had spent enough of her life that way as it was. 

He had near nodded off, the dancing rhythm of the flames lulling him, when he felt her fingers twitch within his.  He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the mind or if she was beginning to stir.  He watched her with rapt attention, waiting for another sign. A flutter of her eyes perhaps.  It was a few moments more before he felt her shift, cupping his hand in return.  Her thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.  He started at the touch, unsure if he should move away or allow her to continue. 

He looked back to her face to see her watching him through lidded eyes.  She seemed to come awake fully then.

“Sandor.”  Her voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Good evening Little Bird.  You gave us quite a fright.” He said softly.

 

Sansa

“Mmm.  What happened?” she asked, attempting to move her other arm but finding it awkward and bandaged.  She looked at it uncertain not quite remembering.  She attempted to sit up but he stayed her with a hand on her shoulder.

“You got thrown from your horse, it was spooked by a shadow cat, in the wolf’s wood.  Maester says that your wrist is fractured, but will heal if you let it.  Also says your ankle has a sprain but that will heal within a couple of days.”

She started to remember, the spooked horses in the woods, the feeling of pain and cold fear.  Then being enveloped in warmth and safety.  Flashes of being atop a horse, being fussed over by the Maester.  Then nothing.

“There’s so much to be done with Jon gone, how…” attempting to sit up again.

“Shh, girl, don’t get yourself all worked up.  It’ll get done.  Might be your brother will have to do some things around here.” She looked at him annoyed, apparently he hadn’t met her brother since his return.

“Do you need anything?”  He asked, concern etched on his face.

She felt tired again, “Nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

He moved to get up.

“No, please stay.  I feel safe when you’re here.”  She scooted over on the bed, making room for him. A silent invitation.

“I…” He eyed the new space with uncertainty, eyes shifting between it and the door. 

“Please stay here, no one will know and Talia would never say anything if she found you here come morning.”  Attempting to cut off his thoughts, who knew he was so proper.  She looked down at his hand still clenched in hers.  She felt her heart race in her chest.

She let out a gasp at the sight of the bandages.

“You’re hurt.” She looked at him eyes wide in concern.  Fear starting to trickle in at the edges.

“Just a scratch.  I’ve had worse shaving.”  He smirked at her, coking her brow she highly doubted that was true.

“Of course, My Lord.” She japed at him.

He released a huff of a laugh, apparently relieved to see her in good humor.

He moved to leave, she gripped his hand harder. “Please, Sandor?”  She felt her face contort into a near pout but she was fearful of him leaving all the same.  She would need to find a way around the obstacles that kept them apart, and soon.

He let out a breath of resignation and moved to sit on her bed.  She smiled at him, reassuring him that she wanted him there.  Often times she couldn’t help but compare him to a fearful animal, feeling that if she moved too suddenly or made a wrong noise, he’d be running for the hills. 

Sandor

He sat next to her on the bed, he was as nervous as a green boy at his first battle.  A battle that she was apparently winning, and that was just fine with him.  He had no idea what he was doing, or where this was going.  He just knew that he would not and could not deny her something that was so simple to give. He would kill for her, die for her. He would chase away her demons in the night for as long and often as she would let him, even if that was all she wanted from him.  Although, she was beautiful and he wanted her in other ways, he would never expect that of her.

He stayed above the covers not wanting to get too comfortable should she change her mind.  He settled against the pillows unsure if sleep would or should come in this situation.  She leaned on her elbow above him before taking his arm that was towards her and moving it to make nest for herself at his side.  He involuntarily held his breath, letting it out again when she had settled in next to him.  Her head on his shoulder and her bandaged arm on his chest.   He placed a hand on her shoulder as she nestled into him.

He didn’t even know what to expect from women, let alone her, he had had whores throughout is life.  A few kitchen maids, one he even had feelings for when he was younger, until his brother got to her.  From then on he made sure to not visit any one woman more than once, afraid for what Greggor would do to them once he found out.  He would die before he let anything happen to Sansa, even If she grew tired of him.  She was too important to him, more important than himself.

Despite his years away she was still a bird, whether flitting about the keep or fussing around her nest of furs.  It was just that somewhere along the way she had found her talons.   She had found her inner wolf. He could see it in her when she supped with Baelish, snapping and snarling at the chance to make him her prey.  He was glad for it.  That despite the hardships she had grown fierce, much like that little wolf sister of hers.  She would still shudder at Baelish’s unsolicited attentions but you could see her eyes flash in anger.  When he would turn his back to her.

He was lost in these thoughts when he had noticed her breathing even out, falling into the depths of her sleep.  He listened to her breathing, much like the dancing light in the fireplace, it was lulling him to sleep.  He pressed her to him lightly, turning his head into the crown of her own, he placed a kiss atop her head before following her into the depths of sleep.  He would follow her anywhere. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new arrives at Winterfell

Sandor

It had been a moon’s turn since the incident in the woods.  He still guarded the family wing at night.  The Reed girl stayed with Bran most of the day and she could keep up with most of the men in the yard for training, he had to admit he was quite impressed with her use of the spear.  Sansa still insisted he pick someone to stay with Bran when Meera wasn’t around.  So he stuck with Podrick, the boy never would have been described as a master swordsman but he was adequate, and getting better by the day.  He at least beat that Glover prick, Glover may have been hungover, but Podrick beat him all the same. Sandor couldn’t wait to get rid of that cunt.

Little Finger was still creeping about the keep.  Podrick had reported that Bran and Baelish had met alone some days ago.  Sandor felt uneasy about this, he knew Little Finger would never bloody his own hands, but it still reeked of suspicion.  Especially since the boy refused his claim to the north and had no _known_ knowledge of the intrigues south of the wall, after all he had been residing north of the wall for years.  Although, the boy looked about him as if there were no secrets to him, an air of confidence that he knew things others didn’t.  There were few times they had crossed paths and he swore Bran had looked at him funny.  He would at times say cryptic things, he found it unnerving. Sansa admitted that he acted strange to her as well.

Since her fall she had woken up several times to nightmares, which she would come and sit in her doorway, talking to him until she nodded back off.  Neither of them had spoken of the night he stayed in her room, it was probably best this way.  He didn’t want her reputation to suffer for being too close with an old Lannister dog, he knew the men gossiped enough about her as it was.  He smiled to himself that at least he could provide comfort to the girl as he would scoop her up and tuck her back into the nest of firs.  She had complained a few times that his presence kept her from completing her sewing projects, with a smirk on her face, although she admitted that she felt less drained with the added sleep.

It was well into the afternoon, he was about to leave the yard to ready himself for his nightly duties when a commotion at the gate got his attention.

A girl stood there, talking to the two guards.  She was short, slim, in breeches… that damned needle on her hip.  He barked for Podrick to fetch the Lady of the Keep and quickly.  He made quick strides toward them, one guardsman was about to make a swing for the girl when Sandor caught his arm at the crook of his elbow. 

“If you so much as touch a bloody hair on her head I’ll beat you till the stranger himself won’t recognize you.” He looked at Arya then.  Her near permanent smirk present.

“Dog.  You’re alive…” A look of mild surprise on her face.  He wondered how long she would let that be true for.

“Aye, wolf-bitch.  So are you.” And he felt himself smile at the familiarity and that she didn’t immediately start trying to gut him.

Arya was just entering the yard when he saw a streak of red making its way towards them. 

Sansa had stopped a few paces short of her sister, unsure, uneasy.  Not like she was with Bran.  The ghost of tensions between them at the red keep still present.

“I see you’ve added a dog to the pack.” Sansa huffed a laugh, looking at her feet before embracing her sister.  He watched as the two sisters melted into a hug.

Arya stopped and froze, looking behind Sansa.  Sandor turned to see Bran sitting in his chair watching the scene unfold. Sandor could swear he saw Bran’s mouth slide into a grin before going back to its usual state of placidness.  He turned back to the girls as they separated, he had noticed some of the men cast questioning glances at the pair. 

“Let’s get you three settled somewhere more private. Eh?”  Sansa nodded as they made it back to Jon’s Solar.

Sansa

She had been attempting to work on her needle point, her healing wrist struggling to hold onto her project, when Podrick came barreling into her solar.  He was red faced and out of breath.

“Clegane insists that you come to the yard, Mi’lady.  He seemed urgent about it.” She put down her project and grabbed her cloak.

“Did he say what the matter was?” She asked as they went briskly down the halls, Brienne at her heels.

She made it to the yard when she saw him.  He was walking from the gates talking to a boy… no… not a boy… Arya!

She ran to the pair her skirts flying about her ankles.

Arya had grown, breeches aside she looked very much a young woman, she was beautiful.  Aunt Lyanna come again.

She was lost in the moment when Sandor interrupted, grateful that he had. 

Once the three of them were alone in the Solar they were able to acquaint themselves more easily.  Sansa watched Bran interact with Arya, if she was made uneasy by him she didn’t show it.

“Where’s Jon?”  Arya looked almost accusingly at her.

“He’s at Dragon Stone, attempting a parlay with the Targaryen Queen.  We need more men and we’re hoping that she will ally with us.”  She appeared to relax at that.

“Why is the hound here?”  Arya looked at her appraisingly, a small smirk toying at the corner of her lip.

“He’s part of my guard.” She couldn’t help but wring her hands together on top of the table.  Arya noticed.

“He likes you, you know.  Couldn’t stop talking about you during our travels, it was near sickening.  He’s lucky he’s not still on my list.”  Arya said with an air of smugness.

“What list?” 

“The list of people I’m going to kill.” She said matter-of-factly.  “I already killed the Freys, I’m sure you’ve heard of what happened to them.”

Sansa had heard but she couldn’t hardly believe that her sister was responsible or capable.  What had happened to her siblings, she thought she herself had changed, but compared to Bran and Arya, Sansa had stayed the same.  Her sister was a list wielding murderer, not that she regretted her sister’s choice in victims, and her brother… well she still didn’t know how to interpret Bran, a warg from old Nan’s stories for lack of a better idea.

She was contemplating what to say next when Bran interrupted them.  “I met with Little Finger some days ago.”  Both sisters took on a look of shock, Sansa’s mixed with fear and Arya’s mixed with anger.

“What he’s here?!” Arya exclaimed, her previous look of calm receding.

“Yes.  He gave me this knife.”  He handed Arya a dagger, large and intricate in design.

“He said that it belonged to the Lannisters, but he lied.  It really does belong to him.  This is the knife that tried to kill me long ago, before mother left for KingsLanding.”

Arya fingered the blade. “This is Valerian steel.  How do you know all of this?”

Bran looked into the fire.

“I saw it.  It’ll be useful in the fight against the walkers.”

Arya looked up then, almost startled.  “Walkers?”

“Yes, winter is coming and with it comes white walkers.  Are you ready to fight sister?”

Arya jutted her chin out and nodded.

“Tomorrow we meet with Tormund, Clegane, Brienne, and Podrick.  I think between us all we’ll finally have enough to trap Little Finger and end him.  It’ll be a nice wedding present don’t you think?”  Bran said rather flatly for the content.

“What wedding?”  Sansa felt as confused as Arya looked.  When she turned back to Bran he was looking directly at her.

“I’ll not marry anyone I don’t choose for myself.” Anger and panic clawing up the back of her throat.

“But you already chose him.  He has been part of our pack since Kings Landing.  A dog in a wolf pack.  You wore his cloak.”

Sansa could feel her frustration mounting.  What he talked about was so intimate to her.  How could he know these things and presume to know her heart, too.  Her stomach lurched in fear that Sandor would hear of their talk and leave.

“How do you..? I never even…”  She was floundering in her panic, he tilted his head at her.

“Ask him Sansa, he would never deny you.  He has found his home here.”

Arya wore a look of shock mixed with a barely contained fit of giggles.

She felt herself resisting.  She wanted Clegane.  She knew he had at least a sense of duty to her, but she didn’t want him to marry her for duty.  She had tasted that and resented it.  She wanted to marry for love and partnership, nothing less.

“I already sent Jon a raven.  He said that you are free to marry whomever you choose.  Although, some form of title may make it easier for the Northern Lords to swallow.  Maybe Master at Arms, since he has the skill set and is basically working in that capacity anyways.  In the end it won’t matter.” He turned back to the fire.

It was like he was plucking her thoughts and worries from her head one by one and dispelling them.

“Talk to Clegane, you’ll have the answers you’re looking for.”

She looked at a spot on the floor, focusing and unfocusing.  “No one must know until we’re ready.  Little Finger will plot against him.  I’ll not risk his life over this.  We must have Baelish in a position to lose prior to announcing any nuptials…”  She couldn’t believe she was discussing this out loud.  Her hands clenching her gown.

“We must act soon, they’re coming.” He said it almost as if he was bored.

“Who?”  Arya piped up again.

Bran looked at her.  “The armies.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sandor

He didn’t know what to expect from this meeting.  It was scheduled after the evening meal so as not to make any of the Lords suspicious.  Around the table in Jon’s solar was himself, Brienne, Podrick, Tormund and the 3 Starks.  He know this was time for them to plot and scheme but he wasn’t sure what and it made his insides squirm.  They were playing at a dangerous game and he didn’t know if they would win.

“I appreciated all of you coming here tonight.”  Sansa stated always polite and courteous.  “I’m hoping that we can rid ourselves of Lord Baelish within the fortnight.” Everyone looked at each other, hoping that between the lot of them they would have enough evidence against him.  And so the meeting began.

Sandor discussed things he had witnessed in Kings Landing, things that Petyr did against her father and the Northern Lords then.  Although part of him felt guilty another part understood that this give him a purpose  

Brienne gave testimony to what she had known when she was with Renly and Caitlin, although that didn’t seem to amount to much.

Podrick was able attest to what he had witnessed since arriving at Winterfell. 

Arya discussed things she had seen at Harrenhall, although it helped very little. 

Sansa of course knew what she had seen at the Vale, the death of her Aunt Liza, his scheming to take the north in her name.

It was Tormund that had been able to put some pieces together with the goings on of Petyr while he had been at Winterfell.

“How do you come to know so much?” Brienne had asked somewhat astounded, a tad suspicious.

Tormund looked at her, the usual twinkle in his eye fading as he answered her seriously.

“Jon tasked the free folk with being watchful of the rat in his absence, and even before.  People like him don’t see us.  To kneelers like him we all look the same, so much so that we are invisible.”  She appeared taken aback by that. 

“So we tracked him, followed him, he is no less an animal than the rest of us.”  Tormund continued.  “His comings and goings in Wintertown, leaving the keep to receive ravens at a brothel seems a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

Sandor had to give the man credit.  He knew who he could trust to do the job and he did it without anyone knowing or even boasting now, he respected him for it.

“With what you all have gathered, and what I can piece together we have enough.” Bran stated simply. “We will address this with the Northern Lords and Lord Royce tomorrow.  Baelish of course will be present. There is no need to put this off.  Sansa, it’s time.”  The last part seemed to rile the Little Bird’s feathers.

She collected herself, something was wrong.  “Yes, you’re all dismissed.  Podrick will you please escort Bran to his chamber?”  He was about to leave himself when she held him back by his elbow.

“Please, wait.”

Sansa

She steeled herself, rising to her full height, clenching her fists.  She was nervous and she knew he saw it.

“Will you escort me to my Solar please?”

He nodded at her, a questioning look on his face.

Despite the short distance the walk was long and grueling.  Bran had given his assurances that this is what Sandor wanted but she struggled in trusting his knowledge since she never knew its true source.  She had learned long ago that life was not a song, it could not be so simple for her.

“Please, come in and sit with me, only for a moment, I don’t wish to disturb your duties.”

“What’s the matter?”  She could tell her nervousness was transferring to him.

“Hopefully, nothing.  I have something that I would wish to speak with you about.  Please sit.”

He sat down at the table obviously uneasy, hands clenched in fists on the table.

“If anyone has bothered you…” she cut him off with a gesture of her hand.

“It is nothing like that.” She took a deep breath before plunging into what she needed to say.

“I feel I am ready to take a husband.”  She noticed his face cloud over, the worry now turning to tension, a bit of anger.  She pushed on. “I will only marry one person… I would like it to be you.”  She waited watching him.

She noticed his mood change from the darkness at the mention her marrying to one of confusion.  She didn’t dare interrupt his thoughts on this.  His confusion moved to a look of sadness.

“Little Bird, I’m not sure I understand you.  I’ll not leave you again, you don’t need to marry me to keep me in your service.  I’ll not have you marry me just to keep me here, I’ll do that without the buggering oath.”  He was turning angry again.

“You misunderstand me.”  She started her panic starting to well up in her again.  “I… I care for you.  I didn’t realize that’s what I felt until the Vale.  I would dream of you, imagine you coming to rescue me.”

He shook his head as if trying to clear his head.  Getting up he turned to the window.

“Is this what you really want, or is this the influence of someone else pressuring you?”  His words were flat, as if he was trying to control his emotions.  His back to her, fists held at his side.

“Yes, this is what I want.  This is the only marriage I want.” She said resolutely.

“Why me?” this stung her.

“You’ve always been good to me, in your own way.  Protected me when you could, if it wasn’t for you I would have died that day on the battlements of the Red Keep.”

“So duty?” The contempt of the word dripping from his lips.

“No… Love.”  Although she wasn’t sure if that was the word, she could hardly understand what that felt like anymore.

He turned to her then, eyes flicking to her before flicking to the flames in the fire.

“But if you don’t wish… If you’d rather have someone… If you don’t want me.”  Stuttering and stammering through her nerves, unable to complete the thoughts of her worst fears.  She knew she was damaged in her heart and on her flesh.  Her hands wrung together attempting to find some semblance of control.

Sandor

He was shocked, dumbfounded, and so incredibly stupid to not immediately accept what she was offering.  But he had sworn she’d never enter unwillingly into marriage again.  That included him, not that he ever dreamed it’d be him she’d offer herself to. 

“Little Bird.”  He spoke barely above a whisper, going to her in two long strides.  Pissed at himself for the pain he was causing her.  He could see the rejection on her face and it broke his heart.  Taking her hands in his, they were cold despite the warmth of the room.  They stopped their restlessness when he held them to his chest.

“Any man who wouldn’t want you is a fool.” He made sure to state his next words very carefully.  “I’ll marry you Sansa.  But only if it’s what you wish.  You are not some prize to be won and you know I do not covet your titles and claim.  I only want you, but not against your will and not if you have any doubts.” He paused before he spoke again.  “If a marriage is what you want, a marriage is what you’ll have, whether in truth or in name only.”

She had calmed before she had steeled herself again, apparently her feathers ruffled at one of his statements.  Standing ramrod straight, with her chin up, she sniffed venturing to speak again. Gods he loved her talons.

“I have had a sham marriage, Sandor.  In name only, as you put it so politely?  I have no wish to enter into another.  It will be a marriage in truth and a marriage in love.  I will have nothing less.  If you cannot or will not grant me that then, this conversation is over.”  She went to turn from him again but he wouldn’t release her hands, taking one of his own hands away from her enclosed fists he put it on her chin, to bring her face to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers or hurt you, Sansa.  I only wish for you to know that I expect no more than you are willing to give.  That I have no wish to hurt you or make you do something you no wish to do.”  She looked at him, her eyebrow wrinkled in incredulity.

“Do you not realize that is part of the reason why I care for you, and choose you?”

He let out a sigh defeated. 

“Alright, Little Bird, ask me again.  I promise I won’t bloody ruin it this time.”

“Will you take me to be your wife, Sandor?”

“Aye, Little Bird, whenever you’d like.  Let me know and I’ll be there.”  This seemed to soothe her.

“It’ll be soon, after we’re able to execute Lord Baelish.  We must keep it a secret until then.  I will not have him ruin this, too.”

He nodded.  Releasing her hands and pulling her close, resting his chin on her head and wrapping his arms around her.   

“What does your family think about this?”

She huffed a laugh, her breath coming out in a puff through his tunic and mail.

“Do you even care what they think?”

“No, the only one that can stop this wedding from happening is you.  I don’t care if I have to cart you off like some wilding.” She chuckled then.

He allowed himself to relax into the embrace, breathing in the smell from her hair.  Something sweet and flowery that he couldn’t place.

“Bran and Arya are supportive.  Jon said I could marry a man of my choosing.  Although, if I’m honest I would like to marry before his return so neither the Northern Lords, nor the Dragon Queen can change his mind.” He nodded slowly, feeling her tense as she expressed her thoughts.

For a few moments, but only a few he allowed himself to be content. Allowed himself to have hope. She would always be his to protect, but now that paled in comparison to all of the other things he would get be responsible for.  There were still many things to be done before she would be his, and many things that could get in the way.  He was not so foolish to think that things would be fine and work out from here, no there were plans to be made to make sure this worked out how she wanted.  Anybody who got in their way could bugger off to the seven hells.


	13. THe gangs all here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly internal dialogue from our heros to prepare us for the next chapter.

Arya

She decided to wait in Sansa’s room, incase things did not go in her sister’s favor, it’s not that she knew how to console her sister but she knew how to talk sense to Clegane.  He’d be the stupidest git in all of the seven kingdoms if he told Sansa no. 

She was about to go knock on Sansa’s Solar door when she entered her room.  Blushing and smiling like one of her fine ladies from her songs.  Arya hadn’t seen her sister smile like that in so long.  She figured that the hound said yes.

Sansa startled when she noticed her sitting there on the bed.

“Arya, you scared me, what are you doing here?”  She spoke in hushed tones not wanting to alert her guard dog.

“I take it he said yes?”  Arya spoke quietly. 

“He did.” Sansa resumed her blushing and near giddy expression.

“Good, it’ll be the least stupid thing he’s ever done.”  She willfully ignored the voice that spoke of him saving her at the Red Wedding.

“Arya, he is to be your good brother soon.  Please, don’t be so hateful to him.” Sansa’s face was sad, Arya had the feeling that Sansa was worried about how much defending she’d have to do on his behalf once her secret was out.

“He saved my life on more than one occasion, yours too by the way he tells it.  You marrying him is probably the least stupid choice you’ve ever made, too.” Smirking at her sister, biting back a laugh.  Sansa grinned at her and nodded. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.” Sansa nodded, her face falling into a solemn look.

Arya entered the hall to see Clegane look at the door expectantly, and appearing nearly disappointed at the sight of her.

She nodded at him, a knowing grin spread on her face.  He shifted uneasily, sighed and nodded back.

****

 

Sansa

Sansa was restless come dawn.  She was nervous that things wouldn’t go according to plan.  She had spent some of the night speaking with Sandor, but even that couldn’t comfort her enough to sleep.  Before returning to her bed she embraced him, reaching up on her toes to kiss him on the lips.  It was a chaste kiss, but a new feeling unfurled in her belly, it gave her a promise for a future worth having.

 

Sandor

He was worried about Sansa, he knew she was restless and not sleeping.  He knew he would not find sleep either.  He would break his fast with her and the others before retreating to his quarters, he hadn’t been to a small council meeting since taking his post and he was not about to raise suspicion with his presence. 

He was sitting at the table eating discussing how the execution of Little Finger would go.  He spoke up that he should do it, only to be rebuffed by Arya.  But he continued insisting that it was something he should have done long ago in Kings Landing and that neither of the Stark girls should dirty their hands with his blood.  He would not let the man who had done so much to harm Sansa to be free of his wrath. Arya looked at him appraisingly, put up just enough fight to be proper and then let him have the honor of taking Baelish’s head.  There was a desire to leave Brienne and Podrick out of the loop of their betrothal until the appropriate time.

Buggering Master at Arms… This was the birds doing, trying to gussy him up for the poncy Lords. If she hadn’t smiled at him so sweetly he would have argued more.  He felt sorry for whoever he’d meet in the yard today.

 

Brienne

She half wanted to take Baelish’s head herself but allowed it to go to Sandor.  There was something different about him this morning.  More guarded than usual, that was saying something.  He kept exchanging looks with Lady Arya which made her suspicious.  It was quite improper the way he fawned over the two girls. At first she thought he had fancied Lady Sansa but it seemed that he was overly familiar with Lady Arya, as well.  She’d have to keep a better eye on him, maybe she should take the evening shift, just for propriety’s sake. Although, with Clegane taking the Master at Arm’s position he would be taking guard duty of the Lady much less frequently.

Podrick

He was only half listening, staring at his breakfast.  He had to admit he was a bit nervous about today.  But he knew his role.  To stand in the back of the room, watch for any disgruntled men and report back as needed.  He was to meet with Tormund in the yard before the larger meeting, he was to have the free folk guard the kennel as they wouldn’t be swayed by riches nor threatened with blackmail.  He was glad to hear of Clegane’s promotion, he was quite good at teaching, he himself had gotten much better since his arrival.

 

Bran

He could feel Baelish plotting and scheming.  It had something to do with Sansa and something to do with Jon’s return North.  Little Finger had spies, he knew of Jon’s upcoming return.  He was planning an assassination of some sort.  Jon would arrive sooner than anticipated.  Little Finger had yet to put anything into motion. This had to be done quickly.

 

Arya

Arya was irritated that Sandor would be delivering the execution and not her, but understood why.  That he would be the means of death to man who caused much of his soon-to-be-wife’s pain and suffering.  Still she put up a good show for Brienne and Podrick until they both agreed that Sandor should be the headsman with very little argument.  He would be using his new sword he had recently obtained from the forge.  It would do the job well.  There was discussion of using Brienne’s sword but Sandor refused to sully the job with Lannister gold and nobody disagreed with him, although Brienne looked offended.

When breakfast was finished Clegane went to his own chambers, he didn’t want others to grow suspicious of his presence at such hours.  With him taking the Master at Arms position she had a n even bigger itch to spar with him now, she’d see if he would grant her a good fight before their meeting this afternoon.  She wanted to see how she’d fare against the legendary Hound.


	14. Little Finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other reason we all come her, the proper demise of villains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters posted in an hour? I blame the servers being down.

Little Finger

Sansa appeared nervous today.  He was lucky that she was such an open book and he could see her tells.  Although, she was less cold to him today, maybe her thoughts toward marriage to him were changing.

If he had her, he’d have the key to the North, it would be easy enough to get rid of _Lord_ Snow _._ Of all of the preposterous things, a bastard being king of the north, it made his jaw clench at the injustice of it all.  He had plotted and schemed to ensure that Sansa was returned to the North, it would only be right that he take the throne in her name.

He had seated himself next to her at the midday meal, her brat of a sister was off sparing in the yard with that mongrel Clegane.  He wondered what the Hound’s loyalty could be bought for, he shuddered to think the price Sansa was paying for his services, there was talk of him coming from her rooms late at night, while he was on ‘guard duty’.  She’s have to be properly cleaned prior to a wedding and bedding to himself, children of theirs wouldn’t be mutts.

He allowed his hands to roam over her arm and waist as she sat down at the table.  He loved touching her, she would tremble under his touch.  It would only encourage him more. She looked so much like her mother, but younger of course.  He would have her yet. 

He knew of how to get rid of her older brother, her younger sister was another story.  He did not think he could find someone willing to marry her.  She was rude and crude, she’d be a perfect match for the Hound actually, and that may be a way to pay him for a change in his loyalty.  If anyone could tame her it would be the brother of the Mountain. 

He was so focused on his thoughts he almost missed her question.

“Large council meeting, My Lady?”

“Yes, after the afternoon meal.”  Her lip quirked into a grin. “We’re hoping to settle some things in preparation for our war with the others, and Jon’s return.  It would please me greatly if you were in attendance”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.  Do you know when your brother is set to return to us?”  He asked fingering the cup in front of him.  He already had an idea, but didn’t want her to grow suspicious of not asking enough questions. 

“By the moon’s turn at least.  But with some of the recruits having been properly trained under the care of our Master at Arms here, I feel that it would be good to ensure that they have time to be placed near the appropriate fortifications between here and the wall.”

“Master at Arms?”  He didn’t recall anyone actually having the official title.

“Yes, we’re giving Clegane the official title.  We’ll announce that at the meeting this afternoon.”  His lip twitched attempting to grin.  Sansa was smiling and radiant, it had been a while since he’d seen her so delighted, she must finally be recovering from the Bolton ordeal.

“So he’s being promoted, will he still act as your guard?”

“Oh no, I should say not.  He’ll be far too busy.  He’ll only act in that capacity if we’re traveling, of course.”

Baelish grinned in earnest at that.  Good, it’ll get the mutt away from her, it would be best if he didn’t sully the Lady further.

“Well, there are things I must see to with my men before the meeting, Sansa.  I’ll see you then.”

Bowing to her he left the dais.  As he left the great hall he saw the brat sister, covered in mud and grinning from ear to ear.  He was appalled at how any daughter of Lady Catelyn Tully could be so undignified.

He had gone to his room to consider plans for the upcoming assassination, and coronation of Lady Sansa.  It would come soon, within ½ a moon’s turn if his spies were right.  He couldn’t imagine the Northern Lords following the orders of a woman without the help of a man to lead her.   With Snow seeking out the Dragon queen there was likely to be discontent among the ranks, the window of opportunity to strike was small, but sufficient for his plan to work.  Chaos, after all, was a ladder.

When he entered the great hall it was already crowded with Lords.  Lord Royce, Lord Glover, Manderly, etc, etc.  He took his place along the wall off to the side.  A nice place to watch what was to occur, as much as he’d like to keep his focus on the young Sansa he liked having a read of the room, it gave him ample opportunity to see where he could make leeway with Lords.

She had made her announcement of Clegane’s promotion he took note of the general murmur of approval by the lords. 

Sansa was speaking about traitors among the ranks.  He looked around the room looking to see who would look shifty, who would look most suspicious.  He did love a good intrigue. 

“Lord Baelish, how do you answer to these charges?”

He froze where he stood, taken off guard.

“How do you answer to the charges of murder, treason, treachery, and conspiracy take the throne for yourself?”

“Pardon, Lady Sansa?”  He was panicking attempting to keep his mask of control on his face 

“How to you answer to these charges sir, they are quite serious and punishable by death.”  She was stony in appearance. He looked around everyone glowering at him.  He strode over to Lord Royce, surely that fool would support him.

“Lord Royce, please escort me and my men back to the Eyrie.”

“I most certainly will not.  I suggest you answer her Lord Baelish.”

He decided to beg for his life then, as undignified as it was, his mask morphing into one of repentance.

He got on his knees, pleading to her.  Reminding her of all he’d done for her.  She rebutted with how he had murdered her aunt, conspired against her father, sold her to the Bolton’s, and how he had behaved rather unchivalrous toward her at times while she was his ward.  It was when he saw the hound approaching him did the panic truly set in.  Were they going to kill him right here?

“You are hereby sentenced to death, you will meet your end at dawn.”  And with that she swept out of the room with Brienne and Arya at her heels. 

He would need to attempt to buy the Hound now, he had to think on his feet.

“Clegane, I’ll give you all the gold you could stand if you get me out of this.  I can grant you a Lordship.  Anything.  Women even.  Any of your own choosing”

The Hound smirked at him.  There was hope.

“You think I give a shit about a buggering title or money?”  He barked a laugh of derision. “What good is money, we’ll all be dead soon enough anyway.”

Clegane grabbed him roughly by the scruff of the neck pushing him through the yard and to his dismay the Kennels.  He knew Clegane was a lost cause he would need to try to sway the guards to allow him an escape.

Clegane tossed him roughly in the cell, it smelled of animal waste.  The floor was filthy.  It was a moment before he regained his wits and noticed the three drooling hounds in the cage next to him.  It was then that he remembered Ramsey’s fate.   Panic started clawing through his chest, bile rising up his throat.

He waited seeing figures at the end of the Kennel.  They were wearing the furs of the wilding tribes.  It was his chance, only a fool would entrust those savages to stand guard of a man like him.  He had means and he had ways.  He would trick or convince them to let him go.

***

It had been a long and cold night in the kennels.  He had realized that the wildings would not be swayed by him when one took him by the collar and punched him in the face while the other pissed in the corner of his cell, the liquid creeping ever closer to him.  One eye was swollen shut from being struck. 

The guards had returned at dawn, although he wasn’t sure if they were the same men or not.  They bound his arms behind him and loaded him into the back of a sled, one sitting on each side of him.  He could see Sansa across the yard, that brute she called a guard on the horse next to her.  She wouldn’t even bother to look in his direction. He would have panicked and fought if it’d done him any good, truth be told he was too cold and tired, to do more than fret about his upcoming end.  He would not accept it though.  He would wait and watch for an opportunity to escape, to bribe.  He had not come this far to lose it all to a silly little girl.  He was looking about him again when a sack was placed over his head.

The ride was rough, if he had had anything in his stomach he was sure he would have been sick.  He was just hoping that he could convince Sansa that this wasn’t the way and that he could still be of use to her.  His lands, his money, food in his stores, anything. She was a slow learner anything to confuse her and buy him time. 

Before long they had stopped abruptly, shoving him from the sled.  Someone had wrenched the bag from off his head, he looked into the cruel eyes of Clegane.  There were others, Lords on horses but near the tree line which was far off.  The only ones present and within reach to him were Sansa, Clegane, one of the wildings that liked to act as if he were in charge of things, and Arya.  Sansa was his only shot, he attempted to speak to her, but she quieted him with a hand gesture.

“Lord Baelish, I would allow you last words but I know that you do not repent for the crimes that you have committed, which are many.  I know that you feel that you did them for the greater good, which is your own self-interest.” She paused.  “My uncle Brandon should have killed you when he had the chance.”

“Sweetling, please I love you.  I would still marry you if we can forget this whole thing.”

“I’m sorry Lord Baelish, but that isn’t going to be possible.  I fear I am already betrothed to another.”

What she said didn’t make sense to him.  Her betrothed, who was she speaking of there had never been an announcement.  He looked at her then and she was looking past him and to the mongrel that held him by the bounds at his wrist and his shoulder. 

“What!” His anger was replacing his panic and confusion. If his hands would have been freed, he would have struck her.

Suddenly he was pushed to his knees.

“I’ll have you know it was always him Baelish, him in my dreams rescuing me from your clutches.  It’ll be him that I give my love, my body, and a share of my titles to when we are wed.  He will rule at my side while we leave your body for the wolves.”

She turned away from him then the wilding on one side of her and her sister on the other.  She was so cold and ungrateful, not like her mother at all. How could Catelyn have a daughter that would be so willing to debase herself?

“I’ll have you know,” the hound wrenched him around to look at him, fingers digging painfully into his collarbone “that if I had it my way I’d find a more painful way to kill you.  But I’ll take pleasure in knowing mine is the last face you’ll see.  I’ll take greater pleasure in knowing that she can sleep at night knowing that there’s one less monster in her world.”

With that his head was pushed down and he was tied to the cold stone with leather straps. There was only stone and snow where his one good eye could reach, he felt the cold kiss of steel at his neck, heard a sharp intake of breath behind him as the sword was raised, his heart beating a frantic rhythm that he was sure would kill him before….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay spending all of that time in Baelish's head was unpleasant. I feel the need to shower.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some pre wedding angst and turmoil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more turmoil in this than previous chapters. Sansa's part get's a little scary for a minute but it turns out ok. If violence and vague sexual threats eek you out you'll want to skip the part marked with these ***

Sandor

It had been a little over a sennight since Baelish’s execution.  It seemed the Little Bird’s nightmares weren’t as frequent.  With Arya and Brienne and him sleeping in the same hall they left it to Podrick to keep watch at night, to sound the alarm if needed.  The night shifts would be over soon enough, they were announcing to the Lords today that Sansa had chosen her husband.

Sandor had been adjusting to his duties as Master at Arms.  She was right, it wasn’t much different than what he was already doing.  Train the green boys then remind the rest that they weren’t as good as they thought themselves to be.  He had taken to training some to of the women who wanted to fight, too.  Teaching them close combat like daggers, the Reed girl and a few of the free folk teaching spears and archery.   Winterfell would be well defended if he had any say, he wasn’t interested in telling possible soldiers no just because of what resided between their legs. 

He was washing up before the evening meal when there was a knock on his door.

He answered it, hair still wet without a shirt.  He didn’t know who to expect but found Talia on the other side of it.  She blushed at his state and thrusted a bundle at him.  She had gotten fairly good with a dagger, herself these past few days.

“If it please you, the Lady has sent this for you to wear at dinner.” Dropping into a curtsey she turned and left.”

It was a new tunic, dark in color and a new leather jerkin.  This one was much finer than the one he had.  He could see the leather would match the straps on his cloak.  HE noticed that there was a direwolf on the front placed to still be seen if he were not fully wrapped in his cloak. He realized that there was a reason she sent this tonight.  She wanted him to look like a Northman, more importantly like a Stark.  So donning his warmest attire he put on the Jerkin, leaving his cloak behind.  He made sure to bring his sword as well as two of his daggers that he kept on his person, just in case the lords didn’t like the girl’s plans.

They were in the middle of the meal, it appeared that everyone was present, when Sansa stood regal as ever.  Drawing attention from the crowd and a murmuring silence. 

She looked to her siblings and they nodded at her that they were ready. 

“It is well known by all of you that my brother Jon has left it in my hands to choose a husband when and if I am ready.  We all know that I have been used as a pawn by others and have no wish to continue that role.”  A murmur of agreement.  Sandor felt his fists clench.

“I have decided on a husband for myself.  He has served the North and my family well.  He is someone we all trust to help us fight for the north.”

More murmuring, this less agreeable and a little louder.

“I have decided to wed Sandor Clegane…” There were many noises of discontent.  A few voices of shock. 

“That is preposterous!  He is beneath you!.”  He couldn’t tell where this voice came from.

“If that is your standard then my choices are very few, and Southern.”  This seemed to shut a few of them up.

“But he’s an old Lannister dog.”  Ah, there it is.

“Even as a… Lannister dog… as you put it, he still protected me, even then.  During my sister’s travels he protected her, too.  We would not be standing here today without him.”  That seemed to quell the loudest of them. 

“If there are any disagreements on this I’m sure my betrothed would be happy enough to persuade you otherwise.”  She said with a smirk, the threat was unmistakable.  A grin twitching to his lips before turning serious and looking over the great hall.  He stood to his full height then, inviting any challengers. 

“What do your siblings say about this?”  Lord Manderly said, jovial as always.

Arya spoke up. “We are in agreement.  Our sister is to marry any husband of her choosing.  It doesn’t matter to us if he’s a lord or a stable boy.  She has made her choice.  The wedding will be in 3 days, I suggest the high Lords be in attendance.” She was haughty as she spoke, a smirk on her lips as she sat. 

Bran was stoic, as always.

He felt uneasy as they left the hall, waiting for an attack, an uprising.  Someone to come along and take her from him.  So he kept close to her holding her hand in the crook of his elbow, tense and ready.

She smiled sweetly when they made it to her chamber, he was afraid to leave her.  He was afraid that if he left she would have flown away come morning. 

She seemed to sense this. “Come in and speak with me.”  He looked down the hall, he had been in her room before, but not under these circumstances, after her nightmares yes, after her fall and she was out, of course, but not with such a bold invitation.  It made what was about to happen in a few days real. 

She offered him his usual chair only instead of by the bed it was in front of the fireplace but angled away, he realized then she had planned this.  She offered him a goblet of wine, which he gladly took.  He didn’t drink during the meal, afraid his nerves would make him drink too much and thus impairing himself.  She sat in a chair next to his, a small table in the space between. 

“You’re terribly quiet today.  Is something the matter?”  She looked worried, those doubts she expressed that evening that seemed so long ago peeking through her eyes.  Her brow knit in worry, chewing on her lip. 

So he did the only thing he wanted to do.  He set down his goblet, reaching over he took hers and set that down, too.  Taking her hand he tugged, enough to let her know that he wanted her to move, not enough that she couldn’t break way if she didn’t want.  She did move then and he pulled her into his lap, gathering her legs to be draped over his own, tucking her head under his chin, much like the night she woke up screaming and much like the horse ride after her fall.  Only this was different, it wasn’t for protection nor the same kind of comfort.  But he felt at home here, almost as if he was a nest for her. 

She sighed contentedly and nestled in further, one arm trapped between them, the other tracing the stitching on his jerkin.

He could feel himself relax further, breathing in her scent, arms resting around her waist, light dancing about the room…

Sansa

She could hear his breathing even out, his body relax.  She knew he had fallen asleep, she smiled to herself at how comfortable he seemed.  When he first sat down with her she could see he was nervous but was unsure why. Maybe he too had given up on believing that he could get what he wanted.  She hoped that he had allowed himself to want her, to hope that he could have her.  For however long that would last, once the war with the others came.

She had never felt surer of what she wanted, than when she had announced their betrothal in front of the Lords, she didn’t let her mask falter until she looked at him.  Knowing that he would allow her to have this, that he would fight all of them for her, if that was what needed to happen.  But she knew that she was supported by others too.  After she had spoken those words to Petyr, Tormund had told her she’d make a wolf out of Sandor, yet.  Brienne had even come around in her own way.  Podrick just grinned sheepishly and nodded approvingly.   She was happy and those who mattered to her were content with her choice, she couldn’t ask for more. 

It was with these happy thoughts that she had dozed off too.

She woke at dawn, in the customary nest of furs that Sandor would tuck her into.  She smiled at the thought but felt the keen loss of him.  That would be cured soon enough. 

Talia entered shortly after she woke.  Despite the girl taking up some training for an hour in the morning she didn’t slack in her duties.  Sansa was proud of her for taking the opportunity to learn how to defend herself.  She might have to have to learn a few things herself once she and Sandor were wed.

“Pardon mi’lady are you ready to wake?”

“Yes, Talia thank you.  Did Clegane make it to the yard already this morning?”

“Yes, Mi’Lady.  He seems in a less foul mood than usual.”  Talia grinned at her knowingly.

“Do you need my help for wedding preparations mi’Lady?”

“Only with dressing prior to the ceremony, the ties on the dress and corset are too much for me to do myself.”

“Yes, mi’lady.”

“Although there will be a short sort of honey moon after, two maybe three days.  You won’t have to fuss over me so much.  We’ll take our meals in and have the girls bring bathwater in the evening.  I’ll want the Lord’s things brought in during the ceremony, there’ll be no need for him to return to his own chambers after that.”  Sansa grinned slyly at her maid, who chuckled and nodded her in understanding.

“As you wish it, mi’lady.”

After readying for the day she attended the Small council meeting, as the Master at Arms Clegane had been a regular attendant, but it was decided that the Lords should be allowed to air their grievances without the threat of instantly losing their heads.

To her pleasant surprise the Lords were fairly silent regarding the announcement from the day before, only offering her congratulations.  So it was business as usual. As the meeting ended she walked with Brienne down to the yards hoping to catch sight of her betrothed on her way to the Kitchens to prepare for the wedding feast, it was not to be an extravagant affair but a feast was to be had for such a merry occasion. 

***Sansa didn’t see Sandor so she turned into a hall when she was grasped by the elbow and swung around to face Lord Glover.  She gasped in panic and tried to back away from him but was pressed into the wall.  Frozen in fear she didn’t know what to do, a rough voice told her to fight, a cold one told her she would never escape. 

***“So you’ll not accept my proposal _My Lady_ but you’ll accept his.  Some lowly southern dog.  Maybe Bolton’s love of his own hounds have made you a proper bitch in heat.”  She struggled against him then attempted to kick him, fearing what would happen if she didn’t, it was then that he struck her across the cheek and she fell to the floor.  She was attempting to crawl away when a low growl interrupted the hammering of her heart in her ears.

Her attacker was wrenched away from her and she crawled into the alcove where the torch hung.  She closed in on herself, only catching the occasional sound of a struggle, yelling, more of a struggle. Someone had reached for and touched her shoulder but in her current tunnel vision she couldn’t see who it was, she screamed and flinched hard from them and curled in on herself further, attempting to scramble as far away as possible.

Words like ‘Mi’lady’ floated down to her in the cavernous pit that she had found herself in.  Ramsey’s face floating at a distance somehow more round and less angular that usual.  The presence left quickly and another retuned smelling of the outside, leather, horses, and something that reminded her of safety.  A rasping soothing sound she could almost place.  The touch startled her but it wasn’t unpleasant and it didn’t retreat.  Lifting her up from her place on the ground she felt warm and weightless, like she was floating.

She felt her hands attempting to clutch at the hard leather that she was pressed against.  Warm breath huffing on her cheek and in her hair.  She heard another rasp, this one commanding something.  She was placed on a soft flat surface, there was a flittering about the room.  She held onto the warmth that enveloped her, it didn’t move.  It froze in place before morphing and adjusting about her completely.

A few quiet moments later she could feel soft fur under her chin, could see a fire blazing in the fireplace.  A rough hand gently smoothing her hair way from her tender cheek and smoothing the hair down her back.  She felt, before she heard, the rumbling of soothing words coming from the body that she was positioned against.   

“You’re safe now.  Your sister and Brienne are dealing with him.  He won’t touch you ever again, he’ll be lucky if your sister lets him live to see the dawn.”  At any other time she might have found this violence to be startling but in the moment it was soothing to her.  She was slowly coming back to herself. 

She was consciously able to realize it was Sandor’s soothing words, Sandor’s touch that was comforting to her. As it had many times before.  She realized she was safe, that this was home.  It was when she was returning to her body that the feelings overwhelmed her and she began to cry.  She was worried that this would be too much for him, that this would send him off in a rage to do the job for Arya.  But he didn’t, he just held her tighter, tucking her closer to him.

After she had settled herself he spoke again.  “I knew that cunt was up to no good the moment I arrived, I should have finished him then.”  She knew he was angry with himself, upset that she had to experience another attack by another coward.  He felt as if he had let her down, that he had failed her.

“How did you find me?”  Her voice was small, sounding far away and foreign to her.

“I saw you walk through the yard and I’d thought to catch up and spend a little time with you.  Arya was training some of the women on the use of a dagger, they didn’t need me for that.  I arrived in time to see him strike you, it took everything for me to not to rip his arms from his body.  Podrick tried to move you out of the hall, but you would have none of it, so he went and got Brienne and Arya.  They’ll deal with him give him a trial or sentence his execution, whatever you Northerner’s do.  But if they let him live I’ll kill him myself before they can stop it.”  She nodded, realizing it was Podrick’s face not Ramsey’s, her breathing finally going back to normal, her stomach feeling less like it contained worms.

“Thank you.”  He released a huff, she knew how much he hated those words from her but he didn’t argue with her.  Just relaxed against the headboard and allowed her time to recover. 

“I don’t know how I’ll get all of the things done for the wedding.”  All of the few tasks she had felt like they were large and many in her current state.

He took in a breath as if to temper himself, he shook his head.  “Some cunt just attacked you in the hall and you’re worried about wedding preparations?  Let them all have a bowl of brown and hard bread.” He stated gruffly, but there was no venom in it.  “That can be their feast for all I care.”  He had a tone of desperation in his voice when he said the last. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her to look up at him, he looked at her softly then.  This great, tough man, being so gentle and caring with her.  She leaned back into him then, not caring if they had a feast or a regular evening meal. 

“Sandor?”

“Hm?”  He pressed his lips to her forehead then.

“Will you teach me how to use a dagger?”  He leaned down so as to look in her face, as if appraising what he saw there.  Finding the doubt was with others and not with him he nodded, cupping her head to rest back against his chest.

“Aye, Little Bird, I’ll teach you how to use some real talons.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey we made it to a wedding!

Sansa

The next few days passed quickly.  Lord Manderly had assisted in overseeing Lord Glover’s trial and execution as a show of solidarity.  Sandor had only strayed from Sansa’s side to see to his duties in the yard, he had even slept in her room, despite her insistence that she felt fine and safe, he knew she wasn’t being entirely honest.  Part of her felt that he did it for his own peace of mind as much as her own. 

She was preparing for her wedding, Talia was aiding in seeing her get dressed.  Arya was present as well, smirking about how she fussed over the intricate lacings.  When Sansa was finished dressing and Talia was doing her hair she caught Arya’s gaze in the mirror.  It was more serious than she usually allowed anyone to see. 

“You look so much like mother.” Sansa smiled softly at her.

“She’d probably have a fit over you marrying the hound though.”  The telltale smirk returning again.

“She’d learn to appreciate him just as the rest of us Starks have.”  Sansa stated confidently.  “It would have taken longer to get her to appreciate him than father, but I think we could make her see it our way, especially with what he’s done for both of us.”  She bit her lower lip looking down to her lap.

“Do you love him?  I know I tease the both of you, but you do really love him, right?”

Sansa looked back up to the mirror then, beaming. “I do.  I really do.”

That seemed to pacify Arya then.

Talia finished her hair and did a last check of her dress.  Arya assisted her in donning her cloak.

As they made it through the halls those that they passed stopped to look at their lady and making low bows and curtsies. 

As they made it to the God’s wood with the low light from the torches she saw a few of the Lords.  Only some of the most trusted allies were invited to attend.  But as she looked toward the weirwood tree she spotted him, his silhouette like the Warrior himself.  Her breath caught in her throat and her heart raced at the thought that she was so close to something that she had wanted for herself. 

Arya took her arm then.  Their eyes met and the sisters nodded and started the procession toward the only man outside her family that she trusted with her life, with her family, and with her heart.

Sandor

He heard the mutterings that told him that she had appeared.  He looked up then, stirred from his nervous reverie, waiting to be awoken from this dream.  When he saw her his breath was taken away.  The torch light reflected off of her fiery hair, the only fire that he’d allow to be the end of him.  She had always been beautiful and regal.  But now in her home, surrounded by snow, encased in furs and the grey of her bridal cloak she was stunning, Sandor didn’t have words for it.  And if he didn’t wake up from this dream he was having nor open his stupid mouth and ruin it she would belong with him for as long as her buggering Gods would allow. 

He finally pulled his eyes away long enough to look at the little wolf girl, only to see her signature smirk had been replaced with a genuine grin her eyes sparkling, maybe she really had removed him from her list.

The ceremony seemed so short compared to how long the last few days had seemed waiting for it.  He put her under his cloak, stated that he’d be hers until the end of his days.  He hoped that was farther off than any of those small council meetings ever implied. 

When Lord Manderly allowed them to kiss it was more chaste than the few they had shared the past few days, but it still sent his blood to heating.  The last few nights of being wrapped around her in her bed had about undone him, he had tried on insisting on his having own cot but she would have none of it, so he gave into her.  The fiercest warrior in all of Westeros finally brought down by woman… and if he was being honest he wouldn’t have it any other way.  Where she lacked his ferocity of body and fight, she made up for in spirt and heart.   The Stranger save whoever got in their way.

As they made their way through the line of Lords awaiting to give their congratulations she was practically beaming, and those they met had seemed genuinely happy for her and seemed to accept him.  He was glad that they decided to be agreeable.

The feast they had was not as fine as those in Kings Landing but it was a bit better fare than they were used to eating these days.  Hearty stews, roast meats, and pies with dried fruits.  Sansa appeared in her element, speaking with those around her, her hand resting in his.  The ale was flowing freely however, he’d gut the first man that thought it a good time to call for a bedding.  Almost as if on cue to his thought Podrick entered the hall with a handful of musicians.  When he turned to look at Sansa she smiled at him and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to decline her invitation to dance, she seemed to enjoy it so in the South.

Sansa

Ah, right on cue the musicians came in and the people in the great hall all bellowed and cheered their approval.  She saw Sandor eye her almost suspiciously.  She just grinned at him, knowing he was probably not a dancer, not letting him in on her plan to make their escape without anyone’s immediate notice. 

“Shall we?”  She lifted one eyebrow and smirked at him.  His eyes narrowed at her.

“Little Bird, I’m not your knight of flowers, I won’t dance.” 

“Oh, that’s a shame.  I was hoping we could have a more… private dance… in our chambers.”  She said quietly, she continued to watch his reaction openly.

His eyes widened in shock in her boldness before rising abruptly from his chair and pulling her along behind him.  Any other day and she would have scolded him for his impropriety when escorting her away from the Great Hall.  However, this was not just any day.  Her heart beat wildly in her chest, heat unfurling through her veins.  The kisses they had shared the previous nights in her chambers had started to awaken something within her.  Something that she had thought was hidden away, at times even doubting its existence altogether.

Although, she had told Sandor she wanted a marriage in truth, until the last few days she doubted whether she would be able to follow through with it.  Other than with sheer determination of wanting to eradicate any trace of Ramsey, the thought of laying with a man terrified her.  But Sandor’s gentleness with her, his watchfulness and care at ensuring she was comfortable and felt safe in his presence had cured any of her previous apprehensions.  She was no longer a little girl and she knew that pleasure could be had for women in the bedroom as well, however, she was unsure how to accomplish that, or if she would be able to due to her previous experiences.  But she was willing to try, willing to trust Sandor to help her through this.  He had already played a role in her healing, whether he knew it or not.  It is not that he did anything in particular, except empower her choices, and give her a sense of safety and security that she had lacked.  By showing that he trusted her, he allowed her to begin trusting herself.  He cared for her for herself, not for her title, not for her connections, wealth, nor beauty.  He cared for her whole being, scars and all, inside and out.  So she would be his, and show him the same care, the same trust, and together they would continue to heal the wounds that had been given to them by others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think most of you can guess the next chapter gets a little NSFW.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW wedding night guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed it to an explicit rating and I'm not sorry.

Sandor

As they made it through the halls her skirts rustling behind him he could feel a bit of nervousness creeping in.  As they entered the family wing he turned to her, her face flushed, eyes glimmering with joy and mischief. With that he scooped her up in his arms to carry her the rest of the way.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and placed a kiss on his good cheek.  He grumbled gruffly at her but only in jest and she let loose a giggle that he didn’t know she still possessed.  That spurred him to make his way through her door and kick it shut behind them. 

He gently set her on the bed before turning to place the bolt on the door.  They would be interrupted for nothing, even if all he got to do was stare at her for the evening.

He watched her from the door as she rose from the bed, removing his cloak and her gloves. The fire light reflecting off of her hair.

“Are you just going to watch me all evening or will you assist me with the laces on this dress?”  He wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or his imagination but he thought he caught a blush before presenting him with her back and pulling her hair over her shoulder, her long neck bare to him.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he stood behind her, blowing about little tendrils of hair that made her shiver.

He found where the laces were secured and began to figure out how to undo them.  She was so tightly encased in fabric and boning he wondered how she could breathe at all.  He would speak to her about this, there was no need for her to confine herself for him.

As he unlaced he noticed the scars on the back of her shoulders appearing above her shift.  He had seen the ones on her arms and collarbone already.  She had implied she had them scattered over her body but until witnessing them he had allowed himself to believe it was an exaggeration on her part.  He could see what made them as they appeared knife, teeth, and whip.  He felt the hound inside lift his head, sniffling at the air for prey, but there was none to be had.  So he settled back down.

When the dress was finally loose she stepped away peeling the layers off of her and letting them collect at her feet.  He couldn’t help but be struck dumb at the realization that she was his and he was hers.  That this wasn’t a fever dream or fantasy.

He was shaken from his awe by her voice.

He grunted at her, unsure of what she had said.

“Are you going to join me, My Lord?”  The mischief back in her eyes a teasing lilt in her voice.

“I’m not a Lord.” He grunted before starting to remove his own layers of clothing. 

“Actually you are, marrying me has granted you my titles.  I wish to be married to an equal, a consort I will not have.”  He thought she said it with an air of smugness, as if she had caught him in a little trap. He stopped to look at her, she did eye him uncertainly then.  He sighed out a great breath of air refusing to take her bait.

“As you wish, Little Bird.  But I’ll not be having any of these Lords addressing me as such, they’ll think I’ve either let you turn me soft or that I’ve married you for the title.”  Her smile came back then and she nodded. 

He noticed her smile turning into a grimace, her confidence from before leaving her.

“What’s the matter, Little Bird?”  If she was having doubts they would just go to bed, as they had done the previous nights.

“I’m just so nervous, I don’t know what to do, I’ve never…” She bit her lip, her eyes becoming glassy.

So he strode over to her wearing his small clothes and a tunic.  He wrapped one arm around her waist cupped her head with his other hand his fingers moving through her now loose hair, lowering is mouth to hers. 

Sansa

As he kissed her she relaxed but it didn’t quell her nervousness for what was to come.  He had promised her that he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want.  That he would insist on her telling him if things were good or bad.  She knew she would have to push past her embarrassment to accomplish that.

She relaxed into him further then, that pleasant warmth unfurling in her belly.  He kissed down her neck stopping to suck lightly on her pulse point, she took in a breath at how ridiculously good that felt, and how it sent a current down to her toes.  He gently walked her backwards to the bed, stopping when it bumped into the back of her thighs.

His hands started roaming then, down her back and up her sides sending shivers, tickling in places that made her giggle.  He pulled back to look at her, a wolfish grin on his face.  He took his shirt off and tossed it to the side where the rest of their clothes lay ignored and forgotten. 

She felt herself blush at the sight of him, the muscles in his arms and chest, the course hair the covered his body.  Pulling her close he went to kiss her again, his tongue toying with her own.  It was then that she noticed her shift rising up her legs and past her hips, she held her breath.  He noticed and paused looking her in the eyes, she nodded at him in reassurance that he should continue, so he did.

She had expected him to stop and stare again as her shift was lifted over her head, but he only met her gaze before pressing her to him, their skin touching, setting a fire within her.  His fingers grazed lightly over her skin, taking in her curves and textures, allowing her to know that she could break away if it was all too much. It wasn’t.

He guided her back onto the bed then his mouth moving away from hers and making its way down her neck, nibbling lightly at her collar bone.  She felt like she was floating it was all so nice.  Maybe this was the pleasure that was spoken of.

He was kissing and nibbling his way down to her breasts when he seemed to take a detour his tongue smoothing a space on her chest his lips pausing to spend time there, it was then she realized he had found a scar.  She was almost embarrassed until he moved onto another, giving it the same treatment, as if smoothing away and erasing the hurt.  She clutched to him then, pressing him to her.  He paused, meeting her eye while continuing on to another, letting her know with a look that those things wouldn’t happen to her again.  She sighed in contentment as he made his way past her breasts, although not without placing a kiss on her peaked nipple, eliciting a surprised gasp from her, before returning on his journey. 

It was when he made his way between her thighs that she noticed something was wrong, she was so wrapped up in the pleasurable sweetness of it all that she forgot what he might find there.  A burn mark high up on her inner thigh, it was originally a brand in the shape of a flayed man, but due to the nature of its location it did not heal properly and was instead an angry red, welted, X. He looked up at her shocked, ire bubbling just under the surface, before giving it the same gentle treatment he had given the others, she could feel a wetness drip onto her thigh before she realized that he had tears coming from his eyes.  She reached and cupped his face, pulling him back up to her level.  Kissing him she wraped her arms around his broad back.  She took comfort in his heat, the sheer weight of him pressing into her.  He broke their kiss, again moving to her neck, whispering words of love and endearments.

She could feel his arousal press against her outer thigh, glad that the moment wasn’t ruined by her past hurts or the ugliness of them.  She knew he would scoff if she said something, but men were allowed to have their battle scars, women were expected to remain unscathed.

The pleasure of the moment returned and heightened as he returned to her breasts, her fingers clutching at his hair as he kissed, licked and suckled on one before moving to the other in the same manner.  She felt her hips raise of their own accord urging him on.  She felt a wetness pool in her woman’s place, and felt a thrumming in her blood stream. She was foolish to believe that she had reached a pleasurable place before.  This was pleasurable and more consuming, almost leading her to believe there was more to be had. 

He continued worshiping her breasts when a hand gently skimmed down her belly resting on the curls on her mound, he looked up at her again ensuring that she was finding her pleasure, she only bit her lip and nodded for him to continue.  His fingers brushed against her folds, she could feel the wetness between them and found herself embarrassed, nothing had prepared her for that.  Feeling her stiffen he looked upon her face.  Seeing her flush with embarrassment he smiled at her again his fingers rubbing slow circles.

“You’re wet, Little Bird.” He smirked at her then, he eyes dark with lust.

“I’m sorry. I don’t…” He traced a line up through the center of her folds interrupting her courtesies with a gasp.

“Don’t apologize to me for you taking your pleasure, this is what is supposed to happen.  This is what makes it good for the both of us.” His voice raspy.  He noticed her shift her thighs briefly trapping his hand as he spoke.  His voice did something further to her, coiling her pleasure in a place lower in her belly. 

He continue to speak then, egging her on.

“I want you wet and willing for me.  Every time.”  He continued to stroke her, focusing on a place above her opening.  Her blood practically singing, her breath coming out it pants.

“I want you take your pleasure, I want you to sing for me Little Bird.”  With that his mouth latched back on to her breast continuing to stoke whatever fire he had started in her body.  His mouth shifted lower again, closer to where his hand continued to work her.

“Look at me.”  He stated, somewhere between a command and a request and she obeyed.

He was holding himself up at the end of the bed, his mouth hovering over the apex of her thighs, he could not possibly… oh but he did.

She gasped in as much shock as she did pleasure.  Her hips rocked up to meet him after the first swirl of his tongue at the place his fingers had just left.  Her hand pressing him to her.  She felt wanton in this, embarrassment just at the edge of the good feelings, her legs still dangling off the edge of the bed.  He removed himself then, releasing a sound of protest at the loss.  He chuckled lowly. 

“Impatient Little Bird.”  She felt herself blush at her wantonness then.

He gripped her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, an old unpleasant memory nagging at her brain, he must have noticed the change in her eyes, as he spoke again.

“I like you impatient, I want you to be wanton, or whatever that buggering Septa taught you was improper.  I want you to enjoy what we do here, above all else.”  This soothed her, bringing her back to the present, sending the memory back to the depths that it came from.

His hands grazed the inside of her thighs tracing their way to her knees, which tickled and she lifted her legs off the bed in a jolt.  He took the opportunity to hook her legs over his shoulders before lowering himself back to the center of her of her pleasure, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

 

Sandor

He imagined this must be what the heavens were, immense pleasure even when you’re still confined to your small clothes.  He saw her blush in embarrassment, irritated with the Septas and other highborns who had taught her to be ashamed of this. Silently raging at the man who had taught her to be afraid of this.

He meant what he said when he only wanted her to find pleasure with him.  This would be no duty for her, he was not a poncy lord who felt that his wife owed him his pleasure in bed.  If anything he felt the duty was his to pleasure her, a duty that was anything but a chore.  He would happily go to his grave hearing her little moans and sighs.

Her happy sighs she let out as he got to explore her made him feel like a green boy.  He had no idea how he was going to hold off long enough to actually pleasure her once he was inside her.  But he figured they had time for that.  If he did this task well enough, she may actually enjoy it and seek him out for it. 

He reveled in the taste of her skin, the scent of her arousal.  When he was kneeling on the floor and lapping at her cunt, his wife laid out like feast before him.

He reached one hand up to gently squeeze her breast, rubbing over a nipple.  She moaned and arched again, rubbing herself against his mouth.  Gods this was perfect, she was perfect.  This was the only alter he cared to worship at.  He rubbed is cock through his small clothes to give himself some relief as he worked on her.  Watching her carefully taking note of what she responded to. 

Removing his hand from his cock he returned his fingers to her cunt, starting to explore her opening, he had already thoroughly probed it with his tongue and reveled in her taste.

 

Sansa

She was soaring, she had never felt so good or free, that is until he inserted his fingers in her and started to thrust them, his tongue still focusing on the little bundle of nerves that were bringing her exquisite pleasure.  She gasped again, feeling slightly stretched but not enough to be uncomfortable.  She realized then what a gift it was to be married for love and not duty, surely dutiful husbands did not dote on their wives so, otherwise the marriage bed would not be looked upon with such dread.

As she moved her hips with his thrusts she realized she was chasing something, but she could not know nor understand what it was.  However, she desperately wanted to find out.  She let out a moan not understanding her own need to make the sound, which Sandor responded to with his own low noise which reverberated against her, sending new shockwaves of pleasure through her.  She continued to rock against him holding his head in place, somewhere a in the back of her mind a girl was shaking her head at the clear wantonness of it all, she could no longer bring herself to care.  And there just there, she felt it, felt herself falling, heard herself cry out, more guttural and animalistic than she knew herself to be capable of, her muscles clenching, she practically sat up with the force of her pleasure. Sandor moaned with her, obviously spurred by her reaction to his work.  He continued to with his ministrations his thrusts and mouth slowing and becoming a gentler rhythm as she came down from climax.

She felt him kiss the inside of her thigh, wiping his mouth on his arm, attempting to lessen some of the wetness there.  She was still panting and breathless, a look at his rather smug face made her giggle and blush.  It appeared as if someone was quite pleased with himself.  

He kissed her then, she could taste herself on him, a tad salty a hint of sweet, nothing strong enough to have an opinion about, really.  She pulled him down closer to her.

“Is that what all the fuss is really about?  Is that what men experience?”  She asked.

“I would imagine it’s similar.  It seemed you quite enjoyed it all the same.”  He moved to rest on his elbow looking down at her. 

“Is there something you’d like me to do in return?  I feel rather useless laying her while you’re doing all of the work.”

He grunted, kissing her forehead.  “I rather enjoyed it, I wouldn’t begin to call that work, unless you’d like me to have a different job around here.”  He smirked at her again. 

“Hm.  I shall consider it, although I doubt anyone else would appreciate it so well.”  She grinned mischievously at him again and lifted her head up to kiss him on the mouth, deepening the kiss.  She had received her pleasure but wanted to see what more was to be had.  She knew what was left to do of course, but knew it would be different with him, just as everything else had.

He rolled onto his back then.  Pulling her with him to sprawl across his chest. She was curious as to where he was going with this but enjoyed that his hands were free to roam across her back, giving a light squeeze to her buttocks before making a return journey to card through the tangles of red hair.

 

 

Sandor

“Will you make me your wife in truth now?” she asked as she broke from the kiss.  A questioning look not entirely free of concern.

“Only if you will it, Little Bird.”  He said, although his cock twitched with at the thought of her saying yes.

She nodded at him then.  She seemed to steel herself with the next kiss, although her hands seemed to move nervously at his collar bone as if unsure of what to do.  He realized again that due to her experiences she was ill equipped to lead, he longed for the day that she would be able to take charge, tell him what she wanted and he would be able to do nothing but obey her.  That would have to wait, as his current orders came in uncertain tones.  But he would show her that she was in control of what happened here and continue to be unless she ever stated otherwise, his cock twitched equally excited at that thought as well. 

He sat up then sitting her up with him, she arched an eyebrow at him in a silent question.  Removing his small clothes he saw her draw in a sigh before peeking.  He knew he was larger than most men… in more ways than one, and hoped that this would not send her into retreat.  Not that he’d blame her.  Her mouth opened in an ‘o’ as if in surprise of what she saw. 

He worried about giving her too much time to think on it.  He brought his hand up to her cheek, cupping her face to kiss her again, sure to be careful of the flesh that was still tender there. With that he wrapped his arm around her waist lifting her, taking his other hand and pulling her leg across his lap to sit astride him.  She made a surprised sound so he pulled back to ensure that she wasn’t afraid, that she didn’t want to back out, or need reassurance that she was safe.  She just looked at him wide eyed before pulling herself up to kiss him again, more fiery and sure of herself than she had been yet. This released a growl from his chest, he blood boiling at her burst of confidence, his cock aching for proper attention. 

He took his hand that had been resting on her hip and moved it back between her thighs to ensure she was still wet and aroused enough to accommodate him.  She moaned into his mouth at his touch causing him to thrust up in response, his cock rubbing against her thigh.  He thrust his fingers into her opening again, as gently as he could from this angle, his thumb circling her nub.  He felt her grind down on to him in response, this time eliciting another moan from him, excited for a future time when he could watch her ride his cock as she enthusiastically chased her pleasure. 

“Sandor.”  This brought his attention back to the present.  He broke away from her kiss to meet her heavily lidded gaze her normally bright blue nearly disappeared by her blown pupils. 

“Tell me.” He rasped lowly.

She breathed in, a blush creeping up her already flushed cheeks.

“Please.  Make me your wife.”  She sighed in his ear, her face burrowing into the crook of his neck as she continued to rock against him, her arousal thoroughly coating his fingers.  He had never felt a woman so wet for him.  He would teach her about the finer points of giving him proper commands later, he was not in the mood to tease her and make her wait further tonight.

He removed his fingers from her, noticing a groan of displeasure.  He chuckled into her hair, continuing to be pleased with her pleasure and with her impatience for him.  He adjusted under her, lining up his cock and sliding it through her wetness, paying special attention to that little nub she seemed to like so much.  He thrusted his hips up allowing her arousal to coat his cock.

This was the most aroused he had ever been, unsure if he’d be able to last past a few thrusts but he didn’t care, he’d give her what she wanted and grant her another release if need be.  She continued to pant, his cock sufficiently slick with her mounting pleasure.

So he placed his cock at her opening leaning back to find her eyes, asking for permission again.

“If it’s uncomfortable Sansa, you’ll tell me.”  This was not a request, this was one of his few commands of her.

She whimpered an assent.

He let out a breath and continued.  Allowing her warmth to envelope his cock.  She shifted a bit above him for a more comfortable angle but didn’t shift away.  She made a noise that was a mix between pleasure and discomfort but moved against him, taking him deeper.  When she was settled and he was inside her he wrapped his arms around her taking her mouth with his again.  He wrapped her legs around him as he started to move below her.   Moving his hands back to her hips to assist her in moving with him.  He moved slowly at first allowing her to adjust to him, he was not fully inside her yet, but he wasn’t worried about that, that would come when she was ready. 

She was so tight, and slick he groaned at the feel of her.  The movement of her hips driving him.  He sought her pulse point with his mouth attempting to bring her further pleasure.  Her cunt twitched around him when she felt it.  He grunted in approval.  Thrusting up into her a little quicker at that.  He brought a hand from her hip to play with her glorious teats.  Gods they were beautiful, peaked with rosy nipples that matched her lips.  She moaned into his mouth at his touch with drove him to move a bit deeper.  She broke apart to catch her breath.  He could feel himself edging closer to his climax.  Not wanting to leave her behind he removed his hand from her breast and moved it lower to thumb her nub.  Her face contorted in pleasure at that and she rocked more wildly in his lap. 

“Yes, Sansa.” He growled at her, his voice seemed to cause her to clench around him.  This spurred him further, gritting his teeth from holding back his release.

“Let go Little Bird, come for me.” A slight command, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold on for.

After a few more thrusts he felt her spasm around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders grappling for purchase, a cry releasing from her throat. This brought him to the edge of his own release.  He thrusted a few more times as wildly and as deeply as this position would allow gripping her hips, fearful he’d leave bruises.  He felt his cock spasm, his seed spurting into cunt, her name escaping his lips.  Her wet heat continued to milk him, has if having his own pleasure had prolonged hers.  He was overly sensitive suddenly, the contact making him twitch and he shifted himself from inside of her. 

She sighed and relaxed against him. He readjusted her legs from around him before falling back onto the bed bringing her with him, her body resting limply against his, her breath coming in heavy pants.  He would have given her another smug look if he hadn’t been so spent from their pleasure.

He felt her readjust next to him, her leg still draped over his own.  She moaned contentedly before settling in, his own body relaxing before sleep found them both.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more NSFW chapter before we find our plot.... wherever that went...

Chapter 18

Sansa

She awoke a few hours later, it was still dark.  She was still curled up next to Sandor, her head on his chest and leg draped over his.  She must have stirred just enough to wake him.

“Is something the matter?” Half sitting up in his sleep. 

“No, my love, everything is well.” She dropped a kiss onto his chest.  He stirred then getting up and going to the wash basin.  She didn’t protest nor ask, but hoped that he would return soon enough.  He did a few moments later after cleaning himself up.  He brought the damp cloth  back with him, pulling back the firs, eyes asking permission before he cleaned the sticky moisture between her thighs. 

She smiled at his gesture, the sweet simplicity mixed with something so intimate. 

He got back into bed with her, this time pulling her into the cage of his arms with her back to his chest, legs molded together, like little spoons.

“Are you okay, Little Bird?  I didn’t hurt you earlier did I?”  A hint of concern in his voice, his lips brushing against her shoulder. 

“No.  It was perfect.  I had no idea it could be like that.”  She rubbed his forearms with her palms, in an effort to reassure him. 

She had spent much of the evening unsure if she would be able to consummate their marriage, until he placed her in his lap.  She was at a near equal height to him, she was neither trapped nor caged by him.  She had felt truly free.  It was almost as if with that gesture she felt equal to him in all ways, and that if she truly wanted to end the experience at any time it would have taken very little effort on her part.  He didn’t even hold her to him, although in hindsight she may like to try that in the future, a sly smile curling onto her lips.  But she appreciated his thoughtfulness, it confirmed to her again that she had made the right choice in choosing her husband.

She nestled back into him then, biting at her lower lip, unsure of how to initiate what she wanted.  Afraid of how he would react if she was too forward. 

“What is it?” He must have noticed her restlessness. 

She breathed in before answering him.  “I’m unsure.”

“Unsure about what?”  A hint of concern in his voice.  He was a smart man but Gods he could be dense at times. 

She answered him with silence, bringing his hand up to kiss his palm

“Tell me.”  A simple statement, ringing familiar from the a few hours before, his voice low and raspy.  Dare she say hopeful?

“I want you to take me again, to make me feel those things again.”

He ground his hips into her backside, his manhood suddenly noticeable as it pressed into her.

Her breath hitched at the evidence of his arousal.  She could feel the tension building in her, pooling in her belly.

“One of these days, my lady, you’re going to swallow down your embarrassment and propriety and actually tell me what you want.” He growled into her neck before claiming it with his mouth. 

She grinned at that, allowing herself to relax, realizing that she was going to get what she wanted.  Noticing that never seemed to be able to deny her.

His fingers trailing up her arm before cupping her breast.  She let out a mix of a sigh and a moan and pressed back into him.  The hand above using her encouragement to move down to cup her mound.  She parted her legs to give him access.  Before taking full advantage of her invitation, he took her leg and brought it back draping it over his own.  He paused in his kisses at her neck and shoulder, watching to ensure she was comfortable.  She sighed, relishing in his care and concern for her.  She had never felt so safe, while being so open and vulnerable. 

He seemed content with her reaction so he went back to what he had been doing.  Kissing and nibbling where he could reach.  She shoulder and neck, his breath tickling her ear.  He tweaked her nipple with his thumb and forefinger.  As he gently traced shapes along her mound inching ever closer to her folds, she brought her arm back then to cup his head to her, he groaned at her contact.  She turned to meet his mouth with hers, her teeth nipping at his lower lip in an attempt to stay connected to him there.   This seemed to unleash something in him and he adjusted so his arousal was sliding along her folds, thrusting against her, his hand moving to her nub to stroke her in earnest. 

He was no longer coy and teasing.  It made her blood sing to be able to have him in this way, rasping words of love and encouragement in her ear, bringing pleasure to every part of her he touched.  She felt his control was barely contained and all it would take was one word and she would have all of the control, all of the power in this room.  But she wanted everything to be balanced, a give and take.  With the arm that was under her she reached down, in an attempt to grasp his manhood as it moved back and forth through the moisture that was gathering between her legs. She cupped it, all at once hard as steel and soft as silk.

He let loose a groan in her ear. 

“Fuck.  Little Bird.  You’ll be the death of me.”

A thrill coursed through her blood that she could bring this man to his knees, in more ways than one it seemed.

He moved her hand away from him, sliding his fingers through her folds to test her wetness, her readiness for him.  He growled at what he found there.

“So, wet for me.” An awed whisper.  She nodded hoping that was all of the confirmation that he needed to proceed.  

He leaned back away from her then, finding an angle that was better to enter her with.  

She felt him pressing into her, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as a few hours ago, she was less tense, she was anticipating what she knew was possible with him, rather than fearing similar experiences to her past.  When he was finally seated within her he moved his arms back around her cupping her breast and continuing to rub circles over her nub. 

 

 “Tell me what you’re feeling, Little Bird.”  He rasped in her ear, his breath making her skin tingle.  Something in his voice went straight to her core.

“Good.” She sighed.  He grunted behind her as he started to move within her.  She moved her hand to place it on his hip, her other hand gripping the arm that came from under her and curved up to her breast.

He set a rhythm that she liked.  She was panting and gasping at the feelings he stoked within her. 

Sandor

She was so wet for him, encasing him in her tight heat.  She moaned and mewled under his attentions and it spurred him on, groaning in his own pleasure.

“You sing so prettily for me” she was moving against him but she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable rhythm.

“How would you like to ride me like that pretty little horse of yours, eh?” the image of it still as arousing now as it was a few hours ago.  He withdrew from her, a feral sound of protest releasing from her.  She sat up and turned, he watched her as he rolled onto his back. 

She cocked her head at him, unsure, but curious all the same.  He pulled her on top of him then, moving her to help her better understand what he was about to have her do. 

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ as he used hands to guide her hips over him, allowing her to grind herself on him before taking him back into her. 

“Oh, Sandor.”

“Aye, Sansa, what will it be?”

“Please.” Always so courteous.

He knew what she wanted, he wanted it too, and badly.  So he assisted her in lifting her hips and lining himself up to her.

She hissed in a breath as she sunk down on him as if sinking into a hot bath. 

She hummed a moan when she had bottomed out on him, he could see her fully then.  Her perfect teats swaying with her gentle movements.

“Now there’s a few choices, my lady, and by all means you take your pick.”  Gripping her hips he guided her in grinding against him.  This by far was probably the easiest for her and would probably give her the most pleasure.  He knew it wouldn’t do as much for him but he didn’t care as long as she let him be the one she rode.  He had already learned that her cunt clenching around him in her pleasure was enough to send him into the seven heavens.

She hummed and tilted back her head, taking up a rhythm of her own.  Perched on his cock, her hands bracing themselves on his stomach.  Her teats swaying to her rhythm, he reached for one with his hand and bent his head up to take the other in his mouth. She gasped again and he felt her cunny tighten around him.

She seemed to slow distracted by what he was doing, leaning toward his mouth.  Leaning back into the pillows he took the opportunity to show her a different way to move.  He gripped her arse cheeks then, her breath hitched and her face flushed.  He lifted her up, allowing himself to slip out a bit before lowering her back down.  She let out a little grunt of her own when he was fully sheathed in her again.

She seemed to take that on quickly and soon she was lifting herself up and down his length, with his assistance.

“Yes, like that Little Bird.  I love watching your teats move like that.” She bit her lip in response to him, bracing her hands on his chest she leaned down again as if offering them to his mouth again.  He gladly accepted her offering, her breath panting above him.  He knew she would be getting tired, so he picked up the movement her hands bracing against his chest as he bucked his hips, pushing her forward. He could feel his pleasure climbing and he knew he would have to assist her in finding hers before reaching his own.  He thrusted a few more times, his thumb finding her nub.

“I’m getting close, move how you like best, use me for your pleasure, My Lady.” His voice thick with lust.  “I want to watch your face when your pleasure takes you.” 

Meeting his eye she started grinding against him.  She leaned forward resting her forearms on his chest,  he took the chance to give the occasional thrust, his cock aching for release.

Her breath was panting and she seemed frustrated, that she wasn’t able to reach what she was chasing,  With is free hand he bowed her closer to him, his mouth claiming hers. He started thrusting against her more vigorously while he circled her nub. 

“That’s it Little Bird, come for me.”  Her breath coming out sharply in between her moans.

“I’ll never tire of this, you riding me, taking your pleasure.  I’m yours to do with as you please, all you ever need do is ask.”

That seemed to do it then, something released in her, not her climax but something she was restraining.

“More, please.’

At this request he rolled her onto her back, watching her eyes for any sign that this movement was unpleasant.  He wanted her to feel in control.  Kneeling he lifted her hips off the bed, her weight resting on her shoulders, he entered her and started to move within her in long sure strokes.  Deeper ones than he’d taken yet.

She was gasping her mouth in an ‘o’ of pleasure her eyes screwed shut.

“yesyesyes.  Sandor. Sandor there” He could only do as she bid, in awe that she was his.  He reached a hand out to squeeze her breast before letting his fingers return to her nub.  There was a sheen of sweat on his body, and he grunted with the effort to bring her over the edge.

“Look at me, Sansa.”  She opened her eyes, meeting his.  That did it.  Her already tight cunt spasmed around his cock, milking him and bringing him along over the edge.  Her body jolting with the force of it.  Each time his cock twitched it seemed to stir something in her, prolonging it for the both of them until he slipped out spent and sated.  He leaned forward bracing his forearms on either side of her head, resting his head on her shoulder.  She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on his bad cheek.

He adjusted himself so as not to crush her as he rolled off of her and onto his back, pulling her to his chest when he settled. She nuzzled into him. 

“You said it’ll be pleasurable every time?”  She asked sounding sated and breathless. 

“Aye, it’s no less than you deserve.”  He kissed her forehead, fingers entangled in her hair.  He breathed in her scent trying to hang on to this memory, for those long cold nights that lay ahead where he’d be off to war.  He’d kill the stranger himself to come back to her.  He knew she’d expect no less from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no updates for about a week guys as I'll be on vacation. As always thanks for all the comments and Kudos, it is much appreciated.


	19. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone returns to Winterfell! Who could it be? Awkwardness ensues!

Jon

 

He was in Winterfell’s sights.  They had made good time riding ahead of the camp of soldiers.  He felt compelled to ride ahead to help prepare for the Targaryen army that would be about a week behind him.  It was a miracle that Tyrian had convinced the Queen to fight the dead.  He was also hoping to spend time with Arya and Bran before heading north.  It was a miracle that they were alive and he’d be damned if anything stopped him from seeing them.

He knew that Little Finger was dead but that was the last message that he had received from Winterfell, he hoped that things were well.

As he entered the gate, things seemed quiet for this time of the morning.  He handed off his horse and was approached by Podrick.  He gave him orders to find chambers for the new men who had come with. 

“Where’s Sansa?”  The squire seemed to cock his head at him a bit as if confused.

“They’re in her chamber, My Lord.”  Jon nodded and swiftly walked in the direction of the family quarters.  He thought he heard Podrick say something under his breath but continued on.  He arrived in Sansa’s solar to find it empty so he moved to her chamber.  Maybe she and Arya were breaking their fast there. He knocked, hearing movement inside he waited to be let in. 

He was taken aback when the door opened, presenting a half dressed hound. 

“What is the meaning of this?”  He was shocked, what had occurred that this would be acceptable. 

“Jon!”  Sansa was still a bed, but was scrambling with putting on a robe over her shift.  “We weren’t expecting you for another fortnight.”

“And that makes this behavior acceptable?”  He asked incredulously.  The Hound at least had the sense to be quiet in all of this, and was eyeing Sansa with a look that Jon couldn’t quite decipher.   He stepped past Sandor and the Hound shut the door behind him. 

He was stunned at the boldness of all of this.  “Would you leave us?  I would like to talk to my sister in private.” Turning to Clegane, expecting his order to be followed.

“Jon-“

“No, Sansa we are going to discuss this.” He turned to her his blood boiling at the position she was putting herself in.

“Anything you wish to speak to her about can be done with me in the room.”  He turned back to Clegane then, Clegane’s arms were crossed in front of him, not in a threat but in defense. 

“Jon, please, we meant-“

“Meant to what?  Not have the whole castle gossip about what goes on between the Lady and the Master at Arms?” He watched then as Sansa went from an anxious flutter to being ramrod straight.  The icy look she gave him stopped him from speaking further.

“Clegane…”  Jon turned to him again

“I won’t leave, not with how you’ve spoke to her just now.  If you were anyone else I’d run you through for that. I suggest you hear what the Little Bird has to say before you open that stupid mouth of yours.”  Clegane moved away from the door then and stood behind Sansa, his arms crossed this time in a more threatening way. 

“Two nights ago Sandor and I were married.  We’re on our last day of our honeymoon.  I assumed that Bran had spoken to you of this. 

He could feel his mouth hanging agape absorbing what was said to him.

“Married?  But Sansa… I… How?”

“You told me I could choose who I wanted and Bran insisted on the wedding being soon, before everyone returned to fight the Night King.  He did not wish for me to be used as a pawn, especially since the choice was clear.  I assumed he wrote to let you know.”  Her arms were crossed her glare still icy and unforgiving, as he realized now she had every right to do for how he had behaved toward her in his accusations.

He took in a deep breath.  “I had reassured him that you could marry a man of your choosing and agreed with his giving Clegane the position within the keep.  I didn’t know that you had chosen anyone in particular.”  Jon shuffled his feet as his shock was wearing off and his shame at his behavior was fully settling in.

“I’m sorry for accusing you Sansa, I should have known better.  I just… thought..”

“That’d I’d let anyone into my bed, I’d dishonor my family by creating even worse gossip than is already spoke about me here?  That being married off to Ramsey and Tyrion Lannister and being in the clutches of Petyr hasn’t left enough of a mark?  But that I must take it one step further by having a man in my bed when I am unwed?” He cheeks were tinted pink and her eyes wet with her anger and hurt.

She was truly railing at him now and the only thing he could do was let her.  He shrunk back from her then, he glanced up at the face of the Hound to see a smirk on his lips that didn’t quite match the ire that was in his eyes.  Sandor placed a hand on Sansa’s shoulder, it seemed to quell her.

“I suggest you go and find the little wolf girl.  She’ll inform you on anything else you might have missed.”  However, this was not a suggestion.  It was an order if he ever heard one.   But he knew there was no room for argument and it would not smooth things over with Sansa if he stayed. 

“I’ll do that.”  Nodding stiffly he exited the room.

His sister Sansa, former betrothed of a crowned prince, was married to the Hound.  He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. But he saw that Clegane protected her fiercely while still allowing her to fight her own battles.  He could see why she chose him, there were very few men that would have stood up to a man of his position, let alone allowed their wife to speak so freely.  He felt a grin creep on his face secure in the fact that his sister was happy and protected.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another NSFW, cuz well... honeymoon... sooooo... 90% chance of plot resuming next chapter.

Chapter 20

Sandor

He shut the door on the back of his newly minted good brother.

“He didn’t know?”

“I would say not.” Sansa said rather huffily.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. 

Sansa looked at him in wide eyed horror before joining him in his laughter. 

Covering her mouth and shaking her head she turned to him, her eyes twinkling in their delight.

Of all people to unexpectedly chance upon them in their chamber, the King of the North. 

When Sandor had first moved to open the door he had thought it was the chamber maid coming to take their tray.  It had shocked him to no end to see Jon Snow standing before him.  The King looked murderous at him before turning to see Sansa in her throws of panic and turning his ire to her. 

He would never understand the highborn hypocrisy that men could go on and father a hundred different bastards and the women were to remain chaste.  It seemed all very lopsided to him.  If Sansa had no wish to marry he would have respected that and done as she bid anyways, and cut down anyone who dare say anything about it. 

“Well, wife what would you have us do today?” He asked pulling her to him by the hips.

She smiled up at him.  “I wish to do as we have done these past two days.  Enjoy each other’s company.”

“You’ve no wish to go speak with your kingly brother then?” Her face turned serious then.

She shook her head. “No.  He’ll wish to speak with Arya and Bran.  There’ll be time enough for that tomorrow.  But I want what was promised to me, and if Jon doesn’t mind his manners about this, then I will take tomorrow with you, too just to spite him.” A small smirk tugging at her lips.

“As you wish, My Lady.”  With that he hoisted her up over his shoulder and carried her off to bed, Sansa squealing and laughing in delight.  He tossed her lightly on the bed when he reached it and crawled back into it with her. 

He hovered over her, his hand brushing tendrils of hair away from her face before kissing her mouth tenderly.  They had coupled several times over the last two days.  Each time she became a bit bolder, less hesitant.  That anxious look appearing less frequently when he did something she didn’t expect.  He still had no wish to make her uncomfortable and undo all of the progress they had made.  So he always started with soft kisses that would build into something more.  

Their kisses had just deepened, when again there came a knock on the door.  If it was that blasted brother of hers he’d send him to the 7th hell for interrupting a second time.  Grumbling, much to the delight of his wife, he got up to answer the door.

“What in bloody hell’s is it?!” He roared at the door as he opened it.

On the other side stood Sansa’s handmaid, Talia, obviously stifling a giggle.  She had yet to show that she feared him since he had arrived.

“I came to take your tray, My Lord, and ask if you be needing anything else.”  He allowed her entry to take the tray.

“Talia, can you send up a bath please?” Sansa requested from her place on the bed.

“Yes, My Lady.”  With a curtsey she left.

“Do I offend your sensibilities, Little Bird?”

“No, Ser.” A smirk forming on her lips.  “I intend to spoil you before you are off to war.” She smiled a sad smile then.  “I would like very much that you have every reason to return to me.”

He was taken aback by this, not knowing how to console her without making promises that couldn’t be kept. 

“I have survived more than I should have already, but you can bet I’d fight the stranger himself to return you.”  His throat felt tight at these words.  Jon’s arrival making the threat of impending battles nearly tangible.

She nodded at him, getting up to fuss over some soaps and little jars on her dressing table. 

He sat back on the bed, content to watch her.  It wasn’t long before her chamber maid returned with a flock of other maids carrying buckets of water for the bath.  The tub placed near the fire to keep it warm.

After the girls had left Sansa stood before him in her shift. 

“If it please you, Sandor, get undressed and get into the tub.”  He could feel himself rousing at her request.

“Aye.”  His voice low and rough.

 

Sansa

She could see his eyes darken with his lust.  She had become accustomed to it over the past days, and found comfort rather than apprehension in it.

She watched him as he settled in to the steaming water, he sighed at the heat as he leaned back and rested his neck and shoulders into the curved high side.

He peeked at her as she kneeled behind him, taking up a sponge sitting on the side table.  He seemed curious, even hesitant to let her continue, but he allowed her to go about her task.  She wetted and soaped the sponge and allowed the bubbles to foam before gently rubbing it across his shoulders.  She noticed him relax as she moved the sponge in small circles around his upper body, trailing the contours of his muscles and taking in the battle scars across his torso. 

Her husband cut an impressive figure she knew and he could be intimidating, she took joy knowing that only she was allowed to see him like this, vulnerable and relaxed.  She moved the sponge lower, under the water and began to wash his stomach.  She was reaching over him know, her breasts pressing into his still damp shoulders.  She moved the sponge lower down his body, drifting around his erect manhood and to his thighs.  He turned to her, his breath making tendrils of her hair dance across her cheek.  She worked very hard to pretend to not notice.

“You should join me.” His voice was low and gravelly.  She felt a jolt of arousal streak down her body at the now familiar tone. 

“I’m quite busy I’m afraid.” Feigning seriousness.  “Someone seems to have worked very hard these last days, and needs to be washed.”  He barked a laugh at her dismissal. 

She shifted to the side of the tub now working on scrubbing his lower legs and feet before circling back to have him lean forward to do is back and hair.

She took a chance to peek at his face then, his eyes were trained on her breasts, the damp fabric of her shift doing nothing to conceal the dark color of her nipples.  She kneeled back behind him then. 

“Lean forward please.”  He did as she bid.  Scrubbing his back, ensuring to press enough to relieve tension in his muscles. 

She set the sponge back down on the table and he dipped his head under before she could ask him to do it. 

He sat back up in the water slicking his hair back from his face.  He took her wrist in his hand as she moved to scrub his hair, and gently pulled her around to the side of the tub to face him.  She continued to kneel before him as he sat forward, leaning over the side of the tub.  His eyes met hers as he took a nipple into his mouth, the heat of him seeping through the fabric.  She moaned and pressed herself against him.  He took the opportunity then to reach around her half lifting and half pulling her into the tub, shift and all.  Water sloshed around the edge of the tub and onto the floor, later she would worry about the mess they were creating.  As for right now she laughed at his playfulness and relished in the joy they were able to find in a world that had otherwise been cruel to them.

Her shift tangled her legs and she struggled to find a comfortable place to settle without crushing the man who was running his hands over her arms and back.  She attempted to pull away to adjust herself only to find herself pulled back, his lips hungrily devouring her own. 

A few minutes later, seemingly satisfied by her mussed hair, and kiss bruised lips he moved her to the other end of the tub and she huffed in protest at the new found distance between them.  He took up the sponge looking at her with eyes full of love, lust, and desire.   The eyes that used to be consumed with anger and hatred had melted and reformed into something new, and something only for her.  It was then that she hoped he would leave her with a child.  If she couldn’t have him, she wanted a part of him.  But above all she wanted him to be able to look upon another with love. 

After soaping up the sponge he seemed to notice that she was still in her shift, chuckling to himself he untied the top laces and brought the garment down over her shoulders, helping her to remove her arms and allowing the fabric to pool in the tub at her waist.

“Well, it looks as if I’ve made quite a mess of you, My Lady.”  He lips quirked into a smirk, obviously not regretting his decision.  

Sansa laughed and shook her head at him, “I believe you have made quite a mess indeed.”

“Best get you cleaned up then.”  He took up the sponge and repeated her ministrations from earlier.  Cleansing his way down her body.  The texture of the sponge playing well with the pressure of his hands and the scent from the lavender soap. 

He had reached the apex of her thighs and pulled her legs closer to him to gain better access before moving down her thighs.  She was lost in his touches and caresses before she realized he had stopped and was watching her hungrily.  When their eyes met he stood from the bath, water cascading down his body.  It was quite a sight to behold.

He stepped out picking up a towel and wrapping it around his waist before giving her a hand out of the tub and wrapping her up in a towel of her own.  She squeaked in surprise when he came up from behind her wrapping her in an embrace and nibbling on her ear.  She decided then she would finish what she had started. 

“Lay on the bed, if you please.”  She said through a breathless chuckle.  She heard a growl in her ear, a kiss on her neck and the lightest of pats on her bottom before he complied.  Sandor Clegane was not a man who swaggered but she could swear there was just a bit of it in his step as he moved toward the bed.  A smug little smile forming on his lips as he laid` on his side, his head propped up on his fist.

She walked around the bed, crawling up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, wife?” he asked, stifling a chuckle.  Peering over his shoulder she could see his manhood pressing against the towel still wrapped around him.

“Exploring you for once.” His breath hitched. “But you’ll have to be very cooperative.”  She said nipping his ear. 

He turned onto his back in order to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, which nearly distracted her from her task.  She stopped herself as she felt her body relax against him, and pulled back squinting at him in mock anger. 

“That is very distracting, Sir.”  His eyes were dark with lust and his mouth twitched in excitement. 

She took his hands which had found their way to her hair and placed them near his head on the pillows, he took the hint and placed them under his head, letting her know that she was in control.  Her blood thrilled at the idea.

She leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss on his mouth in thanks before moving her way down to his neck.  During their past few days sequestered away she had found that he very much seemed to enjoy her kisses, nibbles and nips as she had grown bolder.  So she nibbled and nipped, just as she knew he liked, down his neck as her hand caressed the scars on the other side.  His breathing quickened as he was obviously enjoying her ministrations.  As she moved down his body she found various scars, from various tourneys and battles and made sure to lay a kiss on each one.  She wanted to repay him the same kindness that he had shown her the first night.  She wanted to commit to memory every inch of him.  She let her fingers trail through the dusting of hair on his chest, being sure to pay special attention to his nipples as she moved lower toward his stomach.  He sucked in a breath and thrusted his hips up, nearly knocking her back the way she came.

“Someone seems terribly impatient.” Trying to sound stern instead of breathless. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, little bird.” She grinned impishly at him. 

She decided she would explore him with her mouth much as he had done every day since their wedding.  She was finally feeling emboldened and she knew without a doubt that she was safe with him.   She worked her way down to his manhood.  Sandor’s body tensing and relaxing in turns, now it was his turn to squirm and writhe under her ministrations.

“Sansa… you don’t…. have to do…”  She paused and looked up at him.

“I know I don’t have to.  It’s probably very much why I want to.  I am freer with you than I ever have been in my life.”  She stated simply before taking his length back into her mouth.  It twitched and he groaned.  She could tell by the way he breathed that he was close, his hips making slight thrusting movements.  She knew he was trying desperately to hold back, to allow her to remain in control.  His hands no longer under his head but above them fisted into the pillows.  She felt herself smile as she continued to bob her head up and down his length, her hand making up for what she could not reach. 

“Little bird,” he gasped as she revisited a particularly sensitive area with her tongue “I’m close.”  He was near panting now. “I don’t…” But she held fast, causing him to groan in response, his hips moving a bit quicker.   A large fist pawing at the furs.  She quickened her pace and adjusted to be able to swallow down the release from his pleasure. 

He only lasted three strokes more before he peaked into her mouth.  A slightly bitter taste, but no more than some of the darker ales of the north.

Sandor

He lay there catching his breath his hands relaxing to move into her hair, guiding her up his body, lifting his head to meet her part way in a kiss that would be more heated if he wasn’t so sated.  She had seemed pretty pleased by his reaction a smile playing on her lips as her fingers danced little patterns on his chest.

He half wanted to sink into the mattress and sleep but would not leave her so unfulfilled.  He guided her to sit astride him before moving her up his body so her knees were on either side of his head.  She seemed surprised by him and he chuckled at her shocked expression. 

“Up you go, Little Bird.  You get to try a new perch today.” As he lifted her hips up so her quim was over his face.  He took a taste, she was already dripping with her arousal.

It didn’t take much before she was riding his face, seeking her own pleasure, and not much longer after that before he found himself hard and aching for her again.

The sounds were muffled due to their position but he heard the occasional moan, felt her hips stutter as she writhed above him, felt her hands fist in his hair for purchase and felt her thighs clench around his head as she found what she was seeking.  There were a few heartbeats where air was hard to come by, but he didn’t care, it was a small price to pay to give her pleasure.

When she had rolled off of him he followed her, wiping his face on his arm and kissing her shoulder before seeking her mouth. Taking her hand with his own he guided it down to his hard cock.

“See what you do to me, girl?” he rasped into her ear “Hard again like a green boy.”

She squeezed him in her fist and giggled at him.  She shifted below him in invitation for him to settle between her thighs.  He sought her eyes ensuring she wanted this before entering her.

Sansa

He always seemed to be seeking her approval or her consent, and it made her heart swell for him.  He entered her more quickly than some of their previous couplings and her body readily accepted him.  He went to sit up on his heels to give her space but that wasn’t what she wanted so she pulled him down to her, meeting his mouth in a kiss and tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.  He pulled back, his pupils blown.  He pulled his knees up under him but still hovered over her, his arms making the only cage she wanted to be in. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him there.  He rolled his hips into her, finding a nice rhythm that made her pant and her blood sing. 

“Sing for me Little Bird, it’s my favorite song.”

Pleasure surged through her then and she moaned before saying his name.

“That’s it girl, my favorite song is when you sing for your pleasure.”  He buried his face in neck.  She could feel her digging her nails into his back.

A hiss escaped him.  “The Little Bird has talons.”  She let out another moan, followed by a series of babbles that were may have been intended as words. 

His thrusts were becoming hard and fast and before long her body shuddered its release, her claws drew lines down his back as her body contracted in on itself.  Her muscles spasming around his cock, begging for his release.   She felt his hips stutter a few thrusts later a groan escaping his throat and she felt his manhood enlarge before releasing into her, the action causing a series of aftershocks to rock her body.  He stayed above her for a moment, catching his breath and allowing his fingers to trail through her hair. 

He moved to lay next to her careful not to lay on her in the processes.  He pulled her close to him, her head on his chest and her leg draped over one of his own legs. 

“I love you, Sandor” The words escaped her mouth on impulse, not that they meant any less.

She felt him tense beneath her and she froze as well, until both arms came around her and embraced her tightly.  He kissed her forehead before tilting her chin up to meet her eyes with his.

He took in a deep breath, she wanted to still him, knowing that declaring such a thing must not be easy for him, but she was eager to hear the words as well.

“I love you, too.” His voice thick with emotion, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She knew he loved her, looking back she could see that he had for a long time, but to hear it meant something bigger to her. 

***

She awoke to light filtering in through clouds and cracks in the shudders.  They had to go back to life as normal today.  She was draped over him, her leg claiming his own.  It took them a couple nights but he seemed to sleep on his back and it felt natural to curl up next to him with her limbs tangled in his.  She had been sleeping exceedingly well, her nightmares making minimal if any appearances since the wedding.

She felt an ache in her lower stomach and a sticky wetness between her thighs.  Embarrassment flooded her as she pieced together what that could mean.  She hadn’t had her moon’s blood since she wedded Ramsey and hadn’t stopped to think what that would mean for sharing a bed with Sandor.  The Maester had insisted that what she had experienced was normal.  However, now was not the time that she expected to share with her husband the joys of womanhood.  She could feel herself tense, frozen in her uncertainty.

 “What’s the matter?”  He mumbled half awake.

She pulled the sheet back to see drops of blood smeared on his hip where she had been resting against him.

“I’m sorry… I… There’s blood… Mi…”  She stuttered and stammered nervously.

He sat up startling at the word blood, half coherent.  He took her face in his hands looking her over checking for wounds, confusion and alarm clear on his face. 

“Are you hurt?” He looked down to see the red stains on her inner thigh and seemed to put the pieces together. He huffed a sigh of relief before laying back onto the bed.  His hand still on her elbow the other over his face. 

“There is blood on you Sandor, I’m sorry.”  His sudden panic and relief seemed to quell her own initial panic.

He looked down at himself, before looking back at her face and pulling her closer to him, she resisted at first, not wanting to make a larger mess but allowed it. 

“I’ve had worse, Sansa.  It’s no bother to me.  Does it make you feel unwell when this happens?”  His fingers carding through her hair.  His eyes soft in worry.

“I don’t know, I haven’t had it since before Ramsey.  Maester said that it may have been due to stress, or me not eating well enough.”  Sandor nodded at her.

Inside she felt a deep welling of emotion.  A sadness, tears pricked at her eyes she tried to blink them away but they persisted and ran down her cheeks.  He wiped them away with his thumbs before tucking her head under his chin and holding her there. 

“What is it?”  There was no hint of judgement nor impatience.

“I just… I hoped that… I would be with child when you left for war.”  She chocked down a sob.

“You want my babe?”  He asked in disbelief.

“Yes.  It would be a part of you.  That way… no matter what happens…”  She trailed off unable to finish the thought.  

He held her firmly to him.

“Even with all of this, the dead in the North and Cersei in the South you still want to risk a babe, in the winter?”  He asked calmly.

“Especially because of all of those things, Sandor.”  He grew quiet.  She stirred to get up but he pulled her close.

“I won’t deny you that if that is truly what you want Sansa, but I would worry if I knew you were with child and I wasn’t here to see to your safety and comfort.”

“You’d worry anyway.” She said softly.

“Aye, you’ve the right of it.” She got up then although he seemed reluctant to release her.  She walked over to the wash stand to clean herself before dressing for the day.  As she set the rag down, warm arms wrapped around her, it amazed her how unperturbed he was about her moon’s blood.  It was taught by her septa that men did not care to know about these things, although there were many things this sennight that had shown her septa had known very little about men, or at least this man.

Sandor dropped a kiss into her hair and let out a breath before speaking again. “I would prefer to wait until this is over to have children Sansa, if that is what you truly want.  But whatever happens, will happen and I won’t stifle your wishes or your happiness.”  She turned in his arms then and looked up at him, resting her chin on his breast bone.

“You’re a good man, Sandor.” He shook his head at her, at a loss for words.  She noticed his Adams apple bob in his throat as if he swallowed hard. 

She placed a kiss on his chest before turning to ready herself for the day.

He was right, what would happen would happen.  But she would not fret over it, in the end that would do no good. 


	21. a little bit of everybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some arrivals to winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the conveyor belt chapter. A device to get me to where I want to be in the plot. Functionality over all things.

Sandor

The sennight since Jon’s arrival had gone quickly with preparations for war.  He was training the men harder than ever before.  Even encouraging the women spar with men.  He knew he would have to leave Sansa within the next fortnight.  He had been a soldier all his life but he wasn’t ready to leave her.  He was in charge of deciding which regimens would stay behind to defend Winterfell while the Targaryen forces and the rest of the Northern forces marched to the wall. 

He had already decided on leaving the spear wives at Winterfell to care for the camps of free folk that would be left behind.  He had decided on Brienne staying to guard his wife, he couldn’t bear to leave her with someone less competent than himself, and who was more competent than the one person who had bested him. 

Jon had been icy toward him the first few days but had gradually begun to thaw.  Especially after Sandor had declared that any children born to Sansa and himself would be named Stark.  It confirmed that he had wanted nothing for himself and everything for her. 

Sparring was going on without him at the moment, scouts had arrived to inform them that the Targaryen forces were within an hour’s ride.  His wife had insisted that he ready himself to play the part of her Lord Husband.  It was no secret that Tyrion Lannister would be present among the arrivals.  Although there was no love between the Hound and the Imp he begrudgingly respected the man for how he had treated Sansa while they were married.  She insisted that he use his best manners toward the hand of the Queen, and the part of him that enjoyed the comfort of a bed with his wife in it, accepted. 

 

Sansa

Sandor stood next to her while the procession filtered in through the gates.  The Dragons had landed about an hour away, so their new Queen rode astride a horse when she entered.  Her former husband following in her wake.  Dothraki horse lords and Unsullied interspersed.  Sandor had educated her on the finer points of the two soldier camps.  She shivered at what he had said about the Dothraki, and he ensured that they would not be staying back to defend Winterfell, no matter how much praise the Queen heaped upon them. 

As she was watching the soldiers unhorse themselves, taking in and appraising their new surroundings she noticed Tyrion was making his way towards her.

“Ah, Lady Sansa, it is good to see you.”  It was then that he obviously took in the man who stood next to her. 

“Sandor Clegane, a surprise to see you here.”  He stated rather icily.  He looked between the two obviously noting their close stance and that Sandor was next to her and not behind her, as a guard might stand.

“May I introduce my husband to you, Lord Tyrion?”  She felt nervous and tense at this introduction. Tyrion’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

“A pleasure to be reacquainted with you I’m sure.”  Tyrion nodded at her husband, Sandor only grunting in return until she placed a hand on his elbow.

“A pleasure indeed.”  Sandor grumbled.  The words were polite, however, his tone could use some improvement.

“Lord Tyrion, I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.   I’m sure your former squire wouldn’t mind attending to you and showing you to your quarters.”  With a grin and a tilt of her head, Podrick appeared.  Smiles gleaming from the two men as they were able to meet again. 

“That’ll be a fine thing, My Lady.  Per chance we could speak briefly over dinner.  I would like to hear of your adventures since we last parted.”  She nodded at him, relief flooding her now that their first meeting was over. 

Jon approached her then, the Queen on his arm. 

“May I present, Queen Daenerys Targaryen.  Dany, this is my sister Sansa and her husband, Sandor.”  Sansa dropped into a curtsey.  .

“Pleased to meet you.  Jon has told me much of his home and of his family.  Although, I do not recall him mentioning that you were married.”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat before answering.  She could feel anger rippling off of Sandor at the possible threat.

“Yes, Your Grace.  We are newly married.”  She stiffened and straightened her spine then.  Her hand that wasn’t tucked in Sandor’s elbow was fisting her skirts in a gesture that both served to relieve her nervousness and keep them out of the mud.  “I have been married in the name of politics twice, and refuse to continue being a pawn for other men to use.”  She felt Sandor shift under her hand.

The Dragon Queen tilted her head at her, surveying her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I see.”  The Dragon Queen shifting on Jon’s arm before continuing.  “Your dear brother has mentioned that he would not force you to marry again.”  A chill to her voice, as if perceiving a slight.

“He did, Your Grace.  However, in these uncertain times I thought it wise to marry for love, as it was right in front of me.”

The Queen nodded tersely then.  Jon looking uncomfortable and shifting nervously.

“Well, let’s go in out of this cold.  I’m sure you would like to rest and freshen up before the evening meal.” Sansa suggested, breaking the looming silence.

Jon escorted the Queen in with Sansa and Sandor following. There would be time for further assessments later, but the Queen seemed entirely too comfortable hanging on the arm of her brother.   

 

 

 

Sandor

The sennight since the arrival of the Targaryen host was draining.  Sansa would often come to bed exhausted from her own duties, falling asleep before he could even crawl into bed next to her.  It was fine by him, he enjoyed watching her sleep, and he would gather her up and drape her over his chest or wrap his large body around hers.  He realized that there were few nights left where he would be able to do this.   Bran had reported that the dead were making their way toward Eastwatch by the sea.  Jon had sent ahead the wilding men to man the castle.  The spear wives were to remain back, Tormund had been good enough to give him the names of some of his most trusted women to assist in guarding Sansa while he was gone.  He didn’t trust any of the men to do so without him or Jon Snow present, and Brienne and Arya couldn’t be in all places at once. 

He knew that in a sennight they would be on the march.  He was not looking forward to it, the frozen hell that was the north surrounded by the stench of death.  The nights away from the only place he wished to be.  He knew then he would do whatever it took to come back for her.  If it would have just been him, he wouldn’t have cared if he lived or died, but for her.  He would do anything for her.

Arya

Everyone was preparing to leave for the North.  A part of her wished to go with, another knew her place was here.  She was adequate with a blade and possibly one of the only ones skilled enough should Lannister forces come knocking while everyone else was still to the North.  Only the family knew that she could play the game of faces, and it would be kept that way.  Sandor had warned her of making foolish and impulsive choices, alluding to her having more guts than brains.  She had to give him credit for his assessment, although she was not as stupid as she once was, she was much more adept at doing what was needed to win. 

Brienne

Sandor had insisted she stay back with Lady Sansa.  He had threatened what would happen if she let her guard down and something had happened to their Lady.  She didn’t need to be told, but understood his desire to be the one to protect her.  Despite her earlier misgivings he was much more honorable than she had ever presumed him to be. 

Jon

Daenerys was given her own quarters but it didn’t stop him from visiting her in the night.  She was fierce and felt himself falling for her. 

He was confident in the army they were marching north.  He was pleased with what Clegane had been able to do with the men since his arrival.  He was torn wishing to leave Clegane here but knowing he would need all of the competent bodies available to defeat the dead, and he was one of the greatest warriors in Westeros. 

Podrick

He was pleased to meet with his former Lord again.  They were able to spend a few good evenings together.  In his travels back to his room from spending time with Tyrion he had noticed Lord Snow in the halls.  At first he had thought nothing of it, until he realized that it was in Queen Daenerys’ room.  He would say nothing of it, but wasn’t as naïve as he used to be to believe it was nothing. 

Tyrion

It still floored him that his former wife was now married to the Hound.  One of the most beautiful girls in all of Westeros and she had chosen Sandor Clegane.  If he hadn’t of heard what had happened to her at the hands of the Bolton Bastard he would have had the nerve to be offended.  But he supposed it couldn’t be helped that her third husband would be someone that would have ripped her former one to shreds at a wink. He touched his throat at the thought that he could have been next.

It made him near grateful that she had thought well of him.  He could see that her charms had obviously warn off on her new husband.  Although, he wasn’t warm and charming he was also not as biting and cynical has he had been at the Red Keep.  Looking back on it now who could have blamed him, having to take orders from his sister and Joffrey. 

Bran

He could see the dead coming.  He knew that they would be to the wall before their own army could get there.  He saw flames in his future orange and blue. 

He could see Jon being born to his aunt Lyanna and Prince Targaryen.  He knew he would have to tell Jon but had nothing on his visions to rely on.  They would have visitors soon.  He knew that they bore the secrets to save the north and an air of familiarity to himself.  If the pieces continued to fall in place they would win this, with fewer casualties than they were planning for, but the traveler needed to hurry.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW followed by some departures.

Sansa

The provisions were packed, soldiers were armed and were currently being given one last grand meal before their departure.  Arya and Brienne would be staying back with her.   Jon and Sandor would be leaving toward the wall. 

Jon’s friend Sam, and his family, had arrived earlier in the day and the two friends were bent over their cups in serious conversation.  She knew that Jon was waiting until an appropriate time to leave the feast to talk to the man in private.  As for Sam he would stay at Winterfell providing them with further information regarding the Night King in the dead and aiding the Maester with his duties around the keep.   

She was terrified to lose the two men dearest to her, but more terrified if they didn’t win.  Although, they had a small army to help defend Winterfell incase the dead or Cersei came, she feared that it wouldn’t be enough.  There was no word that Cersei was moving this way, however if her intelligence informed her of the army moving toward the wall there wasn’t much to stop her. 

Sandor placed his hand over hers, pulling her from her thoughts.  The great hall was loud and raucous tonight.  The wine and ale flowed a bit more freely than she usually allowed for, the stews that were served were thick and hearty to help provide nourishment for their travels. 

“You look far away wife.”  He rasped in her ear. 

She gave a sad smile.  “You’re not wrong, I’m afraid I’ve traveled to the wall ahead of you all.”

He cupped her cheek then, taking her in, and carding his fingers through her hair.  One thing about her husband is he didn’t care who saw these little touches, and quite frankly she didn’t either.  Although she could see a disapproving look from her Septa in her mind’s eye.  It usually elicited gasps and quick looks away from anyone who was shocked to see these gestures, small smiles from those who knew better.

“Shall we retire husband?”  She looked down coyly, hoping that he would take her hint.  She was not so bold as to say what she actually wanted from him, not in front of all of these people.  But she did not wish to share him with others any longer tonight.

A sly grin formed on his face.  “Do you not wish to spend time with your brother before he leaves?” 

“I had my midday meal with him, we’ve said what we’ve needed to say.  I have not done so with you.” 

He turned a bit more serious then.  “Aye, then let’s be off.”  As she passed by Jon’s chair on the dais she gave his shoulder a squeeze in passing.  She knew that not all of them could come back, but she hoped that these two men would even if it was selfish of her. 

They made it to the quiet of their chambers.  Sandor helped her untie her dress before she removed it and hung it up, while he saw to his tunic and breeches.  She decided that Sandor would have her without doubts or fears tonight.  Ramsey had done enough to make her fearful of her marriage bed with her husband, tonight he would not find one little shred of space to wedge between them. Tomorrow her husband went off to war, and therefore tonight he would be able to enjoy his wife without restraint.  She wasn’t sure how she would communicate this to him without words, knowing that would just turn into an argument, but she would find a way. 

He sat himself on the bed and rested against the headboard, waiting for her to finish.  She stood in front of the fire, bared to him watching him a moment.  Taking him in, knowing that this may be the last time she really gets to see him like this.  She realized if she stood any longer she would cry and this was not a time for tears, she felt she had shed enough in her lifetime. She also knew that her husband craved the wolf in her and knew that tears, although accepted, would not serve him as well as her fierceness would.

She made her way up onto the bed and crawled into his lap.  She kissed him intensely, tonight was a night for him.  She would not send him off in doubt of her affection or desire for him.  He seemed startled at first but pulled her close to him giving into her attentions.  His hands ghosting over her face and going through her hair before they trailed their way down her back, cupping her buttocks and squeezing them as he pulled her against his hardness.  She had yet to find room for doubt since their wedding night, he was always ready for her.

“I’m yours husband, always yours.” She gasped breathlessly into his ear when the kiss broke.

He let loose something between a groan and a growl then, flipping her onto her back before he made a trail of kisses and nips down her neck to her collar bone.  She relished in the feel of him, the weight, the heat, the texture of his hands and lips.  Everything about him was divine.

With her hand on his ribcage she could feel the heavy and quick thud of his heart.  She could feel his breath ghost over her breasts before he took one of her peaked nipples into his mouth.  She arched into him the feeling coursing through her and causing wetness to pool between her thighs.

He had a mouth on one breast and his hand on another.  The other unoccupied hand ghosted down her side, tickling her in the process.  She let loose a giggle, Sandor released a devious chuckle of his own before switching breasts and sending her into a series of gasps and moans.  She arched up into him again wrapping one leg around his back to hold him closer to her, to let him know she wanted this and more. 

“My Little Bird is persistent tonight.”  He looked up at her with a smug little grin on his face. 

She lifted and bowed her head to him to capture his lips in a kiss before falling back onto the bed.

He traveled lower placing kisses along her stomach before reaching her mound.  He laid kisses around it and gave light and gentle touches with his hands that were more teasing than pleasing. 

“Sandor.”  She said in a near demanding tone.

“Hmm?”  He mumbled at her in response, continuing his little game.

If she had not been so aroused she may have found his playfulness amusing. 

“Please, Sandor.”  She said with a gentler tone.

His kisses and touches became a bit firmer and more insistent, but still avoided the places that she wanted them to be, her legs hooking over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back attempting to pull him closer. 

“Do you want something, Little Bird?”  His face contorted into a look of innocence which was ironic considering the place his mouth was hovering over.

“I need you.” She said with no little urgency her hands carding through is dark locks.

“Then tell me about what you need me to do.”

She blushed fiercely knowing she would not be able to give coy hints as to what she wanted.  Of all of the things that they had done with one another she hadn’t really had to be very specific with her wording, although she sensed he liked her to be demanding, just as much as she enjoyed him speaking while they were together.

She stole herself and remembered that she wanted to have no regrets for tonight, that she would give him exactly what he wanted from her.  She did what she did in all challenges.  She straightened her spine, feeling almost haughty despite being prone beneath him.  If he wanted to play these kinds of games, she would win them.

Sandor

He watched her from below, seeing her adjust herself, his lips pulling into a tight smirk about what was coming.

She took in a great breath before speaking

“I want you to taste my cunt, My Husband.  I want you to make me peak with your mouth.”  A great whoosh of air came out of her as he descended upon her, giving her what she both demanded and he desired to give.  He was aching for her.  It didn’t help that she had made demands of him, and used language so _unbecoming_ his lady.  He hadn’t been sure if she’d be willing to give herself to him tonight with him leaving, concerned that she’d be too upset.  But her wolf came out and she showed him the fierceness of her.

When she had said she was his, he had taken over, nearly saying the word mine out loud.  He stopped himself finding a way to busy his mouth.  Although she was his, he also knew she was not ensnared to him, she alone held the key to her freedom from him, if that is what she desired, even if it would mean the end of him.  Now that he had her, thrusting herself against his mouth, the sweet little moans escaping her lips, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to imagine a future without her in it. 

He slid his fingers into her cunt, her muscles squeezing around them.  He thrusted a slow rhythm while keeping his mouth working the little pearl at the top of her opening.  She was chanting little words now, yeses and mores.  This was the only heaven he cared to be in.

“Please, Sandor.  Please, more.  I’m so… oh… ah!”  Her thighs clamped around his head and her little feet dug into his back.  Her cunt spasming around his fingers, her whole body smasming as he continued his movements to help her ride out her orgasm. 

He sat up on his knees then, sucking her wetness off of his fingers, savoring the taste of her before wiping his face on the back of his arm. 

“You taste better than honey, girl.”  If she hadn’t of been so languid and boneless he may have earned a bit of a blush with that, but she just grinned lazily at him.  It was a very powerful thing.

Sansa

She welcomed him back with as kiss that spoke to her current state.  “You make me see stars, My Love.”

She pushed him up and motioned for him to sit up against the headboard. 

“I want to make you see stars as well.”  Setting astride his lap.

“Mmm, half the time I look at you I already think I’m dreaming.”  He said solemnly, cupping her cheek and gazing into her eyes. 

She grinned softly at that and leaned in to kiss him.  It started slowly at first, needing to restoke the fire within her.

It wasn’t long before she was grinding herself against his length, him encouraging her with his groans and hands on her hips.

He was panting before she broke away to sit higher up on her knees so as to take his length into her aching center.

“You’re mine, husband.” She stated boldly as she enveloped his manhood.

“Yours.”  He groaned, his eyes half lidded with desire for her.  His hands gripped her hips tightly holding her to him, not allowing her to shift up, almost languishing in the world where they were joined.

“Tell me I’m yours.  Show me I’m yours.”  She whispered in his ear. 

This seemed to spark something in him. Even at his most untamed there had still always been a tether to of control.  She wanted him to be able to feel free in this moment, like he had done for her since their marriage.

He growled wrapping his strong arms around her body and holding her tight to him.  He burred is face in her neck nipping and sucking, rougher than usual.  He shifted onto his knees before releasing her to be turned away from him.  At first she thought he meant to take her from behind like a wolf, this half scared and half thrilled her before he moved her back sitting onto his lap, impaling her on his length.  She gasped at the sudden intrusion, his hands going for her breasts and her nub.  

He used his hands to guide her in her movement as he started to thrust up into her.  Her blood was roaring in her ears and she couldn’t tell his panting breaths from her own at times, they seemed to breathe as one. 

She was gasping and moaning, he removed his hand from her breast to tilt her cheek towards him to kiss her mouth.  He groaned again, his hand moving in circles over her nub.

“Mine.”  He said quietly almost testing her reaction.

“Yes, yours.”  She moaned back, opening her mouth for another gasp of air.  He sucked on her shoulder his hips moving against her, manhood moving through her, the friction of it getting her close to another peak.

“Mine.” He growled in her ear, the feral Hound rearing his head.  Her blood sang.

“Yours.” She said in encouragement.

This seemed to open up the gates and release that last tether.  He tilted her forward onto her hands, changing the angle of her hips.  He seemed to be seated deeper inside her which made her pant in breathless gasps at each thrust. 

His hands moved to brush her hair to one side of her neck baring her to him before he too leaned forward over her.  Caging her on one side and holding her around her stomach with the other.

He nipped and sucked anew at her neck, as if marking her.  This spurred her on and she thrusted herself back into him firmly, causing herself to cry out at the sensation. 

She could feel his cock twitch within her and knew he was close. 

He sat back up again, his hands brushing over her nipples as one went to her hip and the other went back to circling her nub.  She looked back to see him watching where they were joined, his eyes dark with lust, sweat beading on his brow.

Their eyes met for just a moment.  “Mine.” He grunted.  This seemed to be all she needed to be pushed over the edge, her muscles squeezing him causing his hips to stutter before he thrusted hard and urgently against her a few more times before his own release caused him to spill within her, causing her muscles to spasm again at the sensation.

Catching his breath he leaned forward once more.  Kissing her temple before rolling them both to their side, his softening manhood leaving her. 

“Did I hurt you?”  His tone at once concerned and guilty.

“No.”

“I was too rough with you.”  His hands gently moving her hair to the side before ghosting over where his mouth had claimed her neck.

“You’ve always been so careful with me, Sandor.  I wanted you to be able to feel free with me.  There is no point of me being free with you, if you are not free yourself.”  He tensed as if preparing for a rebuttal but he sighed and said nothing. 

She had thought he had fallen asleep before he heaved a great sigh and spoke.

“I don’t ever want to hurt or scare you.  The Hound has been dead for a while and I would like to keep it that way, but sometimes with you I can feel him lurking and prowling.” 

She took his hand and thread her fingers through his in a gesture of comfort.

“The Hound is a part of you and even he would not hurt me with the intention to harm me.  I do not fear you Sandor.  If you’re worried about marks from our coupling, they will heal.  Furthermore I’ll wear them with pride and comfort until they heal.”  He hugged her to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in before sitting up and hauling her with him righting themselves on the bed and shifting themselves under the covers. 

“I feel I’ll never deserve you, Little Bird.” He held her close, she was buried in the crook of his arm, safe and warm about to drift off.

“Let me decide that.” She mumbled into his chest.  His heartbeat setting a soothing rhythm.  A part of her wanted to stay awake, watch him sleep, to not miss a moment of him before he left.  But she was sated, the previous weeks making her weary so she tumbled into a deep sleep. Dreaming of wheat fields dotted with wild flowers and little children teetering through them.

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Sandor

He awoke to what he could only assume was Podrick knocking at this hour.  He made his way out of his bed disentangling himself from his wife and covered her in the furs.  Striding to the door, not even bothering to put on anything. 

“What?!”

“Pardons, my… um” Podrick stammered and tried to look anywhere but in front of him.

“Out with it.” Sandor grumbled.

“We’re readying the wagons to leave, I know it’s early…. But I thought it’d give you more time.” The squire was blushing like a damn maid. 

“Aye.”  Podrick turned to go. “Thanks.”  Sandor mumbled unsure if the squire had heard.

He crawled back into bed with Sansa. She stirred, obviously awake.

“We don’t have much time,” she muttered. 

“No, but there is something I would speak to you about.”  Her brow wrinkled in confusion.  “I want you to pack a small bag and have it ready in case you need to evacuate.” Her eyebrows shot up in shock, her mouth dropping open. 

“But Winterfell and you.”  Something between sadness and anger hung in her eyes. 

“I made plans with Arya and Brienne. They’re to get you to a port, preferably to Manderly’s and book passage to Bravos.  If I’m still alive, I will find you.  Winterfell is of no use if all of the Starks are dead.  Have Brienne and Arya help you pack, you’ll probably have to sleep rough on the way.” He cupped her cheek then, attempting to soothe her.  She turned into his palm kissing it.  It nearly broke him.

Heaving a sigh he sat up against the headboard and pulled her up to him.  Her head rested on his chest.

“I’m not a good man, Sansa. “ She stirred as if to protest but he cut her off.  “You’ve made me a better one.  I love you and realize now that I’ve loved you for a long time.  I’ve survived other battles even though I had nothing to come back to, so having you will keep me going.”

He ran his hands through her hair savoring the texture and weight of it.  It was then she sat up and kissed both cheeks softly before kissing him soundly on the mouth.  She got up and went to her dressing table, she fussed with her drawers for a while before returning with a small pouch and a ribbon.  She opened up his night stand and pulled a dagger out of the drawer.  His heart raced unsure of what to do, unsure of what she was doing.  She took a small lock of hair, securing it with a ribbon, and cut it with the dagger.  She put the hair in the pouch and the dagger back in the drawer.

“I didn’t teach you how to use that.”  He said, guilt edging into his voice. 

“It’s no matter, I’ve been taking lessons with some of the women.  Arya and Brienne, mostly.  I’m not very good but I can hold it better now and we practiced on the straw dummy so I know where to stick it.”  She smirked at him then, he was so proud of her.

“Well, they can keep teaching you.”  She sat back onto the bed, handing him the pouch. 

“They will.” He took it from her, the strings were long enough that it could be placed around his neck, so he did.  It rested above his heart.

“I should get ready to see you off.”  She nervously wrung her hands.

“You don’t need to.  Isn’t that why we’re leaving so early so as not to create a bigger fuss than we are, let everyone say their goodbyes in private.”  He felt more defensive than he sounded. 

When she looked back up at him there were tears welling in her eyes.  He moved toward her swiftly and crushed her to him, she was sobbing then, whatever was containing her emotions had broken. 

“Shhh, Little Bird.”  Her body wracked with sobs. 

She took a gasp of breath.  “But I just found you.”

“And knowing you, you’ll find me again.”  She had always found him in his dreams.

“You’re mine, girl.  Nothing or no one will keep you from me again you hear me?”  His fierceness overtaking what he was hoping to be a softer moment.  “Seven hells, seven heavens.  I’d travel through it all to find you.”

She quieted and looked up at him, cheeks red and tear stained.  She nodded.  His thumbs wiped at her cheeks before he leaned down to kiss her, it was soft and salty.  He’d never had to leave someone for battle before, but he supposed this was the way of it. 

She sat up straight then her hands ghosting over his face before she got up to ready herself for the day. 

“I will see you off husband, I am your wife and I will do what is right by you.  I will do what is needed to be done here, so hopefully there is a home for you to return to.”  He was so proud of her display of strength in the face of danger and loss.

“Aye, lass you do that.”

Sansa

She had not meant to fall apart on him.  She had meant to be strong, but she was glad they had talked things through a bit more.  She took strength from his fierceness and surprisingly his possessiveness, knowing that if he had the choice he would come back. 

She readied herself and helped him with his armor before taking his arm to walk him down to the court yard.  Many of the horses and carts were ready.  The courtyard was a bustle of movement and activity, even with half of the castle asleep.  He took her face in his hands one more time before kissing her and mounting his horse that Podrick had readied for him. 

He nodded curtly at her before turning and leaving through the gate, in a hurry to see to his duties, in a hurry to get to the wall and back to her. 

Podrick approached her then, taking her arm. 

“Let’s go see about your breakfast, My Lady.”  She turned but stopped suddenly.

“Sandor didn’t eat.”  Panic creeping into her voice. 

“He’ll be fine, My Lady.  I packed him some extra provisions in his saddle bag.  He’ll find them eventually.”

She looked at Podrick then, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Thank you, Podrick.  We’d be lost without you.”  She gave him a grin that was still tinged with the heaviness of the day, though the sun hadn’t quite come up yet.

Podrick blushed furiously and nodded before ushering her into the Great Hall.


	23. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's perspective after everyone has left for the wall.

It had only been a bit over fortnight since they left but already the time away from Sandor was weighing on her.  She was sleeping poorly and sleeping very little.  She ate, but not nearly enough.  She knew if he was here he’d be locking her in her room with trays of rich food, however, if he was here she probably wouldn’t be struggling so much.  She was worried for him, for the men he was traveling with, for those left behind in the keep, and for herself feeling grasped in the clutches of danger. 

There had only been one raven sent to tell them that all was well.  Bran was able to watch their progress to a degree, but he shared little but the most basic of news with her. 

She was sitting in her Solar managing the numbers of her resources when Samwell entered with a stack of books in his arms.

“Sam, I hope you’re finding things that are of use to you here.”  She smiled up at him, despite not knowing him well she knew that Jon trusted him and he was such a kind hearted man that she always seemed to feel a little bit lighter when he was present.

“Yes, Lady Sansa.  I’ve sent any useful information to Jon.  I know not to expect much in writing in return, he was always terrible returning correspondence.” Sam grinned affably at her.

Tilting his head he continued, “You know Lady Sansa, you do look quite worn out, if you need help keeping the books or with anything around the Keep, myself or Gilly would be more than happy to help you.  I know your sister is often busy in the yard training.” 

“Oh, thank you Sam, but no.  I think I just miss my husband.  But if I need help, I’ll let you know.  Is there any information from the South?”  She felt herself stiffen at the thought of Cersei coming when they were left so vulnerable.

“No My Lady, everything is quiet on that front.”

Samwell made to get up and leave as the door opened and Podrick entered.  His hands wrung nervously “My Lady, visitors at the gates.”

Sansa felt herself go numb, instantly afraid.  She took in a deep breath and sat up straight, remembering her husband’s fierceness and that it was a part of her now too.

Sansa got up and took Podrick’s arm to be escorted to the yard.

When she arrived there was chaos, her guard was in full force at the gate and on the battlements.  She looked around noticing Tyrion fast approaching her, his strides making up the distance in speed rather than length. 

“My Lady, it seems my brother has arrived with some men.  He wishes to have a parlay.”  She felt her mouth open in surprise tinged with fear.  She knew what had happened the last time he had come to Winterfell, what had happened to Bran.

“Allow him in, alone, and strip him of any weapons and bring him to Jon’s Solar.  I will require Bran, Arya, Brienne and you, Lord Tyrion.”  With a nod she turned on her heel to go back into the confines of Winterfell.

“Podrick, I need you to be our ears.  Go and have a look at the men that are gathered outside, move among them, see if you can determine what their true intentions are, have some of the spear wives attend to the same.”

“Yes, Mi’Lady.”  He muttered before he hurried off to do as he was bid.

She wasn’t alone for long when Talia entered. 

“Talia, ready some ale and food for our guest.”  Always the good hostess, despite the icy chill she felt regarding his presence. 

Talia dropped into a curtsey disappeared back through the door.

Arya and Bran arrived next.  Bran looking far away as always now, Arya looking ready to fight. 

“What is our plan?” Arya said to her.

“I don’t know.”  The both seemed to look to Bran for his input.

“He means us no harm.”  Was all he said to them, as if that would explain everything.  Exasperated Sansa sat in her seat at the head of the table, her siblings flanking her.

“But his sister does.” Arya spit back.  “His family is responsible for the death of ours and for the near death of you.”  Arya hissed heatedly at him.

“Enough.”  Sansa commanded looking at her sister and straightening again.

“We’ll see what he has to say and how much of it is the truth.”  Arya nodded to her before taking her seat next to Bran.

The rest of the people filed in, Brienne looking teary eyed and solemn as she took her seat.  Tyrion and Jaime looking tense as they sat at the table.

“Please explain to us why you’re here, Lord Jaime.”  Sansa said more imperially than she felt.

“I have come and brought you men to aide you in your fight.”

“And what fight would that be?” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

“The fight with dead at the wall.”

“And will those men turn on us when your sister takes up her banners against us?”  A shift in view showed Brienne looking stricken while Jaime looked down to his good hand that was set on the table. 

“No, we will stay and fight if it comes to that.  Most of the men aren’t warriors as much as craftsmen from Kings Landing.  I thought it best to evacuate what I could after I had seen what she had done with the wild fire.”

This was new information for them.

Jaime continued seeing her questioning stare.

“She set fire to the Sept of Balor, taking out the Tyrell heirs, and most others that have opposed her rule.  Tommen has taken his own life because of it.  She must be stopped.”

Sansa’s heart clenched at the news.  Tommen was always a sweet boy.  Margery, despite her faults, was never cruel to her and saved her from a marriage to Joffrey.  She didn’t offer condolences, if it would have been a member of another family she would have extended them, but felt none for the man sitting in front of her. 

“Your family is the cause of the atrocities that have plagued my own family since you pushed my brother out of the tower window.”  She shifted in her seat gaining momentum. “Why should we believe or trust you?”

Brienne’s mouth gaped open as if to speak, but was silenced with an icy glare from Sansa.  Sansa took note to speak to her about this later.

“There is no reason to, you have every reason to execute me right here.  Take the men, they came willingly enough.”

She turned to Tyrion. “How many did he bring?” 

“From our estimates about 50 Lannister Soldiers, and about 30 men with presumably other skills.  Not to mention the myriad of camp followers and families that came with them.” 

“Have them encamped outside of Winterfell, Children and women can move into Wintertown and be put up in some of the empty homes.  Until they have been properly vetted, no one is to enter the gates.  Lord Jamie can be kept in one of the lower store rooms.  He is to be guarded at all times and is to have no contact with the men he brought after he ensures them of his safety.”

She noticed a look exchanged by Brienne and Jaime. 

She turned to Arya.  “Have the guards escort Jaime to the gates to ensure his men that he is fine, then have them place him into one of the empty rooms. Ensure there is a cot for him to sleep on and warm water to wash up with.  We are to treat our prisoner’s better than Lannisters have treated us.”  Tyrion flinched at her phrasing, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.  He may have stopped them from beating her, but he didn’t ever prevent it in the first place.

Arya moved on her order. 

“Brienne, meet me in my Solar, I would speak to you when I’m done here.”  There was a pause before she nodded, Brienne watched Jaime exit the room but did not immediately follow.

“What do you think Bran?” She asked softly, the tenseness of the meeting finally leaving her.

“He means us no harm. There are several of his camp that would be beneficial to us.  Follow what you have planned, but quickly.”

“What have you seen?”

“The wall will fall, and soon.  Those men and their followers will need to be safely in Winterfell before that happens.”  Sansa’s breath caught in her throat.

“But.”  She was cut off with a stare.

“Sandor is fine.” She steadied herself, letting her breath exhale

With that Arya returned to push Bran’s chair to wherever he wished to go.  Sansa made her way to her solar, fingering her sleeve in her nervousness.  She had recently started keeping a stiletto strapped to her arm, it made her think of Shae and she felt all the more stronger for it.

When she entered her Solar Brienne was facing the window, her back to the door.  She stirred from her reverie as Sansa asked her to sit down.

“Brienne, tell me about what you know of Jaime Lannister, you seem to have a keen interest in his arrival.”  She and Brienne had grown close during their time together, but this did not stop Sansa from using a commanding tone now.

“We travelled back to King’s Landing together from the River Lands. In the course of that time, he had saved my life on several occasions, although I had threatened his and there was no gain in it for him.”  She took a breath, her eyes teary before continuing.  “He is the one who outfitted me with my sword and sent me off to find you.”  She paused again, as if mulling over something and considering.  “I know you don’t trust him because of what his family has done, but he is a different man than who he was when all of this began.”

Sansa didn’t speak but thought deeply about this.  She knew that there were many in her keep that were in similar positions, including herself as well as her husband both former and current.  Jon would always be contending with the fact that he is ‘just a bastard’ despite coming from a great house and being a good man.  

Finally she came to a decision with this information.  “I will not mistreat him, but I will not assume his intentions are good.  If he can show us that he can be trusted then I will allow him greater freedoms within the keep, however, until then the conditions he is currently under will remain the same.”

Brienne watched her a moment before nodding.  “As you wish, My Lady.”

As she moved to get up Sansa stopped her with a gesture, “I would assume that my husband would be unhappy with the turn of events today Brienne, and if he returns before Sir Jaime is able to prove himself worthy to our cause I cannot guarantee that Sandor will be as lenient with him as myself.”

Brienne’s mouth opened, seemingly shocked at Sansa’s admission, before nodding and quickly exiting the room.  Thus leaving Sansa to her thoughts.  In all of her time of ill-gotten sleep she swore she was never as tired as today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the Kudos and comments everyone! This ship is amazing :)


	24. The Army North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some perspectives from North of Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a weekend! Don't get too excited this one is pretty short.

Sandor

Fuck it was cold.  He had survived through several winters in his life but none seemed to compare to this.  The wind bit at his exposed skin and tore through any weaknesses in his clothing and furs that it could find.  He knew he was fortunate it had only been a little over a moon’s turn since they left the confines of Winterfell and already there had been cases of frostbite and hypothermia, despite the men having been outfitted well for the weather.

The movement of the army camp was slow.  They would make good progress only in the midday if the sun shone to provide a sense of warmth.  They needed to stop several times due to storms, or risk being lost or separated.  They would need to make stops to set up reinforcement camps in case the dead made it far enough south, setting up traps in bottleneck mountain and forest passages that would allow the men encamped there to set up fire walls or some buggering contraption he had no wish to experience.

The wall was finally in view now, but it would still be a day’s travel before they made it to East Watch.  

There had been a raven from Winterfell, written in Sansa’s elegant scrawl, about more men coming to support the cause. It made his hair prickle up on his neck and his stomach turn at the threats that surrounded her.  He knew that she was as safe as she was going to be, surrounded by her wild sister and her ferocious guard woman, but still longed for the control of having it be him that kept her safe.  Her hair a red flame in his dreams contrasted against the stark white that was constantly in front of him, both waking and asleep, the burn of the cold seemed to replace the burn of the flame from dreams past.

It was then he heard a great rumble, the earth shaking below him and the wall in the distance quivering like the tremors of an old man.  Fear coursed through him, the fight for his future being placed at his feet.  Instinct took over, shouting orders, sending scouts to where the Dragon Queen was managing the reinforcements in the back, her dragons would be needed sooner than they had expected.

 

Tormund

The dead approached, an army bigger than when they had all assembled under Mance. He felt his heart in his throat.  The time had come, scouts had reported the arrival of the southern armies, but they were still not due to arrive until tomorrow.

Then he heard it, a high pitched wail.  A sound similar to the horns the crows used, but louder and all-consuming in its invasion of the senses.  The planking below him shook, the mountain of ice and stone trembled and he knew then that it was the Horn of Winter and the wall would come down.

“Evacuate, get out now!”  He shouted although he doubted that anyone could hear him over the horn so he turned and ran toward the stairs pushing and dragging anyone he could within reach.  The wildings knew, the Horn of Winter was as common a fable as the songs of the south were to the kneelers.  But the other array of men that were assembled, fire worshipers and crows, did not have this knowledge.   And so he pushed and dragged and stumbled his way down steps and through corridors to find level ground, he could see horses and other animals scrambling away from the yard.  The men that looked like ants from where he had started were slowly getting bigger and he was getting closer to his goal.  Rock and ice started to break loose raining down on those around him.  Railings broke free from the stairs and then he was falling and landing with a hard thud, pain shooting up his limbs from landing on his hands and knees.   He scrambled up, pulling the lump of furs and cloth next to him along, and then large rocks and boulders shook free from the wall and the sound of the horn was replaced with the sound of collapse, the screams of men and animals noticeable.  He fought his urge to look behind him and continued to move as far and fast away from the vengeful structure behind him.  His lungs burned with his efforts and the sounds behind him lessened, it was then that he looked.  Panting for breath he saw what Mance had only dreamed of, the wall of stone and ice turned to a mountain of rubble. Their last defense against the army of the dead.

He took note of the men around him, and knew that they would need to retreat back to where the armies were approaching, few if any had the supplies necessary to fight the dead that were now approaching them.  Barking orders at those around him to gather who they could and travel the road south toward those allies that were coming.  Hoping they would have enough time to fight and not be turned into those they were fighting against.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 updates in 3 days. I think someone finally figured out how we're getting to where we're going. xD

Arya

Stupid.  This was so stupid.  She had seen him several days after the arrival of Lannister and the new men. She had not hesitated to approach the Hound, nor Brienne, nor anyone else from her past.  Why did she have to be scared to face _him_? 

When he saw her, his face was contorted into that of an ambushed deer before he turned red cheeked and dropped his gaze, seemingly unsure.  Stupid bull.  She felt slighted.

So she chose to ignore him for the most part, however, he was all she could think about.  He was so distracting that even Podrick had bested her at practice the other day.  Losing to him again this morning was his fault, too.  She had seen him approach the training yard, watching her, when Podrick had pushed her onto the cold and dirty ground.  She saw anger flash in his eyes before she hurriedly got herself back up, pushing her way past Podrick to go back into the hall.   She saw Podrick’s face, fighting between some sort of pride and some sort of concern but she had no time for it.  She felt him follow her but chose to continue ignoring him.

Later that day when she had passed the forge, she peered in and saw him working, he had noticed her before she walked away and again she hurried away to avoid him.  She would need to confront him eventually, they couldn’t keep having all of these near misses. But somehow his presence made her feel like a child, even though she wasn’t.  She’d say she was a woman grown if it didn’t make her sound so much like Sansa.  No, she had killed many people since she last saw him, there were many things she was, a child she was not.  There was no reason for all of this silliness.  She had half a mind to go speak to her sister about it but was embarrassed that she was being bested by a stupid bull. 

No she would go speak to him, tonight, when the castle was asleep.  There was no need for prying eyes and questions. 

 

Sansa

The Castle was a bustle in the fortnight since Jaime Lannister’s arrival.  The new arrivals he had brought had been vetted and incorporated into the daily routines of the Castle.  The 30 odd craftsmen included a smith, a few tanners and furriers, a glass maker and several wood workers.  The rest were of varying professions that could contribute to the inner workings of the castle.  Sansa had been pleased with the assortment that had arrived.  Of the women, most would work well as serving and kitchen girls, a few others would make fine seamstresses.   Few provisions came with them, although the craftsmen did bring what products and tools they had that would fit in their carts. 

Many of the new arrivals were fairly young, particularly the smith.  He could have passed as a young Renly Baratheon in Sansa’s mind.  He was dark of hair, blue of eye, but he was built more like a bull than Renly ever had been.  He introduced himself as Gendry, a name that nagged at Sansa’s memory, something that echoed with Arya’s voice.   He had proved he was skilled at his work with the items he had been working on thus far.

Jaime was still on a rather tight leash but he was working towards more freedom.  He had been helpful with giving them information about Cersei, about how she was in an alliance with what was left of the iron fleet after Theon and his sister had fled the Iron isles.  

There had been no more raven’s from Jon since the last one, she had sent him a message declaring the arrival of the new guests without giving any specifics, knowing that Sandor would be concerned with Jaime’s presence. 

She was walking through the courtyard when she saw Arya across from her, she seemed frozen in place, peering into the smith’s shop.  She watched as her sister turned on her heel and retreated to the keep, the young smith emerging from the darkness of the shop watching after her, a look of surprised sorrow on his face.  When he turned and noticed Sansa he looked down and turned back into his workplace that was little more than a lean-to.  This was not the first time she had seen Arya dancing around the door of the smith.  She knew that talking to Arya at this moment would be disastrous, but she knew that there was something old between the two, and she had a mind to find out what.

She continued her walk around the yard, Podrick a shadow behind her.  She was making her way to the glass gardens that were being repaired and replenished by some of the new workers when a fluttering of wings caught her eye going to the Maester’s tower, her heart raced, dark wings dark words they said. 

She turned to see Podrick had followed her line of sight, to see what had arrived.  Their eyes met and without asking he turned toward the tower where whatever message would be waiting. 

By the time they made it to the tower Sam had already read the message, looking shocked and miserable.  Bran sitting by the fire looking resigned. 

“What is it?” Her heart a flutter, her voice a mere whisper, afraid speaking louder would make it real. 

Sam’s eyes met Podrick’s before returning to hers. 

“The Wall has fallen.”  The air had been sucked from the room as it spun around her, she felt herself stumble and float to the floor before it went black.  It was only a few moments lost but when she looked up Podrick was setting her down onto the cot.  She gasped in a breath, sitting up again before Sam came to set her back against the thin pillow. 

“How?”

“They didn’t know, Sansa.  But their men are fine, they’d yet to contact anyone from East Watch.  They sent this as soon as they could so we would have time to prepare.” 

Sansa read the missive, Jon’s hurried script.  _‘The Wall has fallen, fortifications have been notified.  We are well. J’_

Her eyes met Sam’s as she finished reading. 

“I’ve read about something called the Horn of Winter…” He added as if this would make sense to her.  “I wonder if the Night King had found it and was able to use it.”  Sansa looked at him confused.

“It’s part of the free folk’s lore, though it is hard to say if it is an actual horn or something else.  I know not much except it is fabled that it is the one thing that would be able to bring down the wall.”

They both looked to Bran who continued to look straight forward into the flames, a nod barely perceptible.

She sat up then, her head still spinning.  There was much to do, and never enough time to do any of it.  As she got up Podrick moved quickly to her side.  “My Lady, are you sure?”

“Yes, please, I have things to attend to.  Sam I’m sure you can ensure that the fortifications that have been discussed are sped up.”

“Of course.”  Always jovial, always polite.  No wonder Jon took to him so well.

Pod, if you could please escort me to my rooms.”  He nodded.  Supporting her by her arm and taking the weight she leaned onto him in the process.  The walk was slow going, her mind reel of thoughts and to do lists.  She was thankful they made it to her chambers without running into anyone. 

“Podrick, please have someone fetch Arya for me.  I wish not to be alone and have no desire for this information to wait any longer.  A large council meeting will need to be scheduled for the morning after the morning meal.  There will be much to discuss and fears to quell.” Podrick was busy with helping her to seat herself comfortably at her table ensuring food and drink were within easy reach of her, her lunch tray had yet to be touched.

“Yes, My Lady.”  He moved to turn back to the door.

“Podrick, I would thank you to-“ he cut her off.

“No one will know, My Lady.  But please eat, it’ll help.” With the worry etched on his face, in that moment she understood why Sandor had insisted that he stay back, it wasn’t his youth or inexperience.  It was that Sandor trusted him to be watchful and to handle things with a level of delicacy. 

She sighed to herself that he had left his fingerprints everywhere before he left for war and she took comfort in it.

That night she would insist that Brienne sleep in a cot in her room.  She knew the nightmares would come.  Arya had protested her request, and Sansa fully understood without words that it had something to do with the smith. He meant something to her, something that she was not ready to share.  So Sansa did not pester or beg, but allowed her sister to go about her business, hoping that she was making happy memories along the way.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A report from the war.

 

Sandor

It was the night the wall fell that Jon approached him with a sword.

“I want you to have this.”

“A sword?”  It wasn’t until he unsheathed it that he understood, it was Valyrian steel.  He looked at Jon questioningly.

“Sam gave it to me the night before we left.  It is a Tarly family heirloom, he told me to give it to someone who knew how to use it better than him.” A smirk formed on his usually dour face.

Sandor hated to admit it but he felt relieved at having the new sword, although he could wield the dragon glass weapons, it meant fighting in close combat and risking being over taken by the hordes.  He slept relatively well that night despite the fear of what was to come, he knew he was prepared.

 

 

It had been 5 days since the wall fell, 2 since the dead started their attacks.  The first two days were tense with cutting timber to prepare for the building of great fires, not only to finish off the walkers, but to burn any of their own dead.  The rest of those two days consisted of resting when they could, not knowing what sleep would look like during a war with those who wouldn’t need it. 

After 2 days of no more than 3 hours sleep at a time he felt weak from lack of food and lack of sleep.  The smell of death and burning brought back memories of past horrors, but he pushed them aside to fight.  He needed to keep fighting, to keep pushing his men to keep fighting.  The dead continued with their assault, an army bigger than themselves.  The army they fought lacked skill but made up for it in unrelenting numbers and an inability to succumb to what they themselves would consider mortal wounds. 

The dragons would rain fire on the encroaching dead.  There had been a near miss with the one the Dragon Queen rode, it nearly being speared by the Night King.  Sandor didn’t want to think what would happen if one of them would turn.  After that it was decided that the dragons would focus on the hoards, avoiding the lieutenants and the Night king.

A small guard would post around the camp of those sleeping, the dragons keeping watch and soaring above them.  This was always done by the light of day, or what consisted of it.  The dead bringing with them an icy haze.

As of yet their losses had been minimal.  Mostly consisting of green boys who didn’t know one end of the sword from another.  He was uncertain if any of the dead had slipped passed them to go south toward Winterfell, toward her.  He knew there were many barriers in between to stop them.  But it was the thought of her being surrounded by this hell that kept him going, kept him from laying in the cold snow and giving up.

Tormund

They had met with the army the day after the wall fell.  The dead taking slowed down by the pile of rubble.  The dragons circling overhead, setting fire to what remained of the wall to try to cut them off, they were successful until a spear nearly took one out. 

He was relieved when he met with the reinforcements.  Sleep had come in fits and shifts.  Strong fighters always needed to help lead those less skilled.

The big woman had not come with, he could say he was glad.  Despite her skills he would not wish this upon her, even though she had insisted with the burned man to go.  He thought of her when things felt hopeless, thought about their giant children and he would find laugh heartily and continue to kill the dead bastards.

Jon

It took him nearly half the trip north to get the courage to tell Dany what Bran and Sam had told him the night before he left.  He had kept his distance from her until then.  Although, the cold shoulder he received from his distancing was nothing to the icy glare he got when he shared that he was her nephew, and legitimate at that.  He had expressed that he had no wish to take the throne from her, but still she treated him coldly.  

That was until the wall collapsed, since then it had seemed that she had warmed to him again.  She had apologized for her behavior but still expressed uncertainty at what would happen once all was said and done.  It was decided that he would be named her heir should she fall fighting the dead, it was then he had attempted to try to send her back to Winterfell.  She would hear none of it and gave him a dragon to ride for his trouble. 

If he thought it was cold marching north, it was colder still riding atop the great beast, Rhaegal.  Dany said that it was only fitting that he ride the dragon named after his father.  He felt connected to it as he rode, he felt as connected to Rhaegal as he did Ghost. 

He was able to keep ahead of the hordes of the dead as the men slept below.  The war happened in shifts, sleep, violence, death and on and on it repeated.  It was a cycle that would continue for another fortnight before the hordes were dealt their final blow.  This solved the problem for a larger part of his forces, having lost about a quarter of them all told. Many more men were injured needing care of a Maester before infection set in or frostbite took more than its fair share of appendages.  However, it would need to wait.  The Night King and lieutenants needed to be dealt with.


	27. A lady's perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear from the women of Westeros

Sansa

It had been a fortnight since they had heard of the wall.  She continued to sleep poorly.  They had finally devised a plan that Arya and Jaime would travel by ship to Kings Landing in an attempt to thwart Cersei.  She wasn’t sure how much she could trust him but knew that she could trust Arya to get the job done.  They had also kept Arya’s isle of faces training from Jaime in case they had been wrong about him. 

They had heard very little from the Northern front, only that the dead were unrelenting and that losses were minimal.  Thoros had died, as well as some of the young men they had sent.  However, last she knew Sandor and Jon were still well, and the numbers of the dead were still less than what was lost during the battle for Winterfell. 

As of now she was tired, the heavy exhaustion that she was experiencing had continued, the last week or so she had also felt sick in the mornings which did not help her already waning appetite.   She was heading toward her chambers when she ran into Gilly in the family hall, as they often sat together and sewed in the afternoons.

“Gilly, how are you and little Sam today?  Are you coming to join me for a bit?” Sansa asked.  She liked Gilly and got along well with her.  It had helped to keep her mind off of worrying about those who weren’t there.

“Oh we’re very well today, Sansa.”  Sansa had insisted on a lack of formality since Jon and Sam considered each other brothers, Gilly was just an extension of her family.  “Is everything ok?” Gilly asked her.

“I think so, why do you ask?”  Despite her exhaustion and nerves she didn’t feel she was acting any differently lately.

“You seem tired, and I haven’t seen you at the morning meal for days.”  As Sansa closed the chamber door behind them, she noticed a gleam in Gilly’s eye, like she knew something Sansa didn’t.

Sansa shook her head, “I’m just tired, and haven’t felt well in the mornings…”  She trailed off and the little pieces tugged at something in the back of her mind.   She stared at Gilly in wonder, a woman who had known her for a little over two moons turn, could know something about herself that she didn’t.  And then she thought of what hadn’t occurred over those two moon turns and the pieces magically fell together.  It was very early, really quite too early to tell these things for sure, but she had hope.

“How did…How could…”  Sitting down heavily in her chair by the fire.

“I’ve been around mothers my whole life Sansa, the first signs become easy to tell, even under times of sorrow and stress.”  Sansa nodded absent mindedly.

“Please keep this between us, I would hate for…” She dared not to finish the thought of what might happen so early, to get her hopes up. 

“You’ve nothing to worry about, I won’t say anything.” She reached out and touched Sansa’s arm in reassurance.  “I’ll have Sam get some tea to help with the sickness in the mornings, hopefully you can get back to eatin’.”

“Thank you Gilly.” Sansa nodded her appreciation, grateful to have her here, and for the first time in a while desperately missing her mother.  The women sewed together quietly for a while before Gilly went to check on little Sam.

That night Sansa slept, slept better than she had before Sandor had left.  She knew there was a part of him that was with her that would fortify her for the long nights still ahead.

Arya

Jaime fucking Lannister was infuriating.  He was worse than traveling with the Hound.  She couldn’t see how Brienne had been on the road for so long with him without killing him.  But Sansa was right, he may be the only hope they had of getting close to Cersei, someone who knew her movements, her secrets. 

It had taken them a sennight to get to a port and get on a ship of one of Lord Manderly’s smugglers.  They would need to make a quiet entrance into King’s Landing if this was to work smoothly.  She had the confidence from slaying a whole tower of Frays but the Frays were not Cersei Lannister and it would take more cunning and guile than slitting an old man’s throat and stealing his face.

She hated to admit that she missed Gendry as the boat rocked her in her bunk.  They had spoken the night they heard news of the wall.  If she was honest with herself, it was really that which pushed her to approach him.  At first she told him he was stupid for coming so far North when everyone was about to die.  He just smirked at her and told her he wasn’t stupid, honestly men were irritating.  She didn’t know how her sister could be married to one.

They had spoken of the time they had missed, what had happened after he left with the Red Woman and she had been captured by the Hound.  They had, had about 3 days together before she decided to leave south.  She always kept her distance from him, always out of arm’s reach until she told him that she was leaving.  He looked a bit furious with her, but it was something that needed to be done and would probably save a bunch of people from being burned alive by Dragons.  Not to mention Cersei was one of the last people on her list, it needed to be done to avenge her family and maybe even allow her sister to sleep at night. 

She brought her hand up to her lips as she thought about the kiss, it was a bit bawdy actually now that she thought of it.  Nothing like Sansa’s songs.  She regretfully pulled away from it, knowing that if she didn’t she would lose the courage to leave Winterfell again.  She told him she’d be back but he still told her that it didn’t have to be her.  He didn’t know that she played the game of faces either and she intended it to stay that way for now, until all of this was over.  She turned over on her bunk listening to the snores of her travel companion, cursing his existence before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.  

 

Brienne

It had hurt to let Jaime leave again, but she was glad that she was able to aide in him gaining favor with Lady Sansa.  He had the ability to be honorable and he was going to prove it this time.  She had faith in him, she had tried to argue to go with him, but decided that may not be the best course of action. Someone needed to stay back with Lady Sansa and they required as much stealth as possible once they got into the city. 

She would pray to the seven for him and hope for their safe passage and return, but she knew that he was lucky to have made it this far, they all were really.  Sir Jaime Lannister was walking into the Lion’s den after disgracing and abandoning his sister, there would be little forgiveness from the Lioness herself.  No, Jaime Lannister was on borrowed time if his sister had any idea what he was up to.  It clenched at Brienne’s heart and made her stomach turn at the idea that Jaime would not be able to live to his potential as an honorable man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the continued support in comments and kudos! it's really appreciated and very motivating!


	28. Chapter 28

Sandor

It had been two days since the bulk of the dead had been defeated.  However, the Night King and his Lieutenants still remained.  It had been decided that Jon, Sandor and Beric with his fire sword would attempt to take on who they could.  They had allowed themselves, some extra sleep knowing they would need it.  The dragons continuing to circle ahead, the Dothraki and Unsullied armies keeping watch.

Even in this part of battle they felt outnumbered.  Sure they had a large number of skilled warriors but they only Jon and Sandor had the Valyrian steel that would make taking them down easier. 

They were about to make their charge when a Raven came from Winterfell.  Jon always allowed Sandor to be privy to their arrival since they were from Sansa more often than not.  Her message to Jon seemingly unimportant in this moment but how she ended the note was fortifying to him.  It reminded him what he was fighting for, encouraged him to gut the icy blue fuckers.  _Tell Sandor we are well._ Aye, and she would continue to be.

 

Jon

He knew he needed to end this with the Night King and return to Winterfell.  They made plans to move ahead toward where they sat on the hill.  He had already killed one of the lieutenants during battle and knew that killing all of them would rid them of any of the dead that had slipped passed.  All of the men were eager to return south, so they made a plan of attack, they would rest and then they would ride at dawn.  Dany would watch them from far and above over night to ensure they didn’t go anywhere. 

He could feel impatience from Sandor after he had read the message and knew that it was time.  They would fight now the 6 remaining on the field and be done with it.  

 

Sandor

The three men rode toward the enemy encampment horses loping over the snow that had been packed down but the thousands of the dead.

“You’re priest isn’t here to bring you back, Beric.”  Sandor grunted.

Beric smirked at him.  “We’ll have to see what his plans are for me, Sandor.  It seems he is not yet done with you either.  He’s seemed fit to grant you a lovely wife.”

Sandor sneered at him, before he sensed there was no ill will in what Beric had stated.

“Aye, and whether he’s done with me or not, I won’t be done until I know she’s safe.”

“Then you’ll fight well today.”

 

And so the three rode and met the five lieutenants.  Sandor and Jon each took on two Baric took on the one.  The flash of the Valyrian steel meeting with the iced over steel of their enemies.  Beric struggled with finding even ground.  His fire sword intimidating his foe but not as strong as the Valyrian Steel.  Jon’s leather skirts flew out from around him as he turned and thrusted into one opponent who flew to pieces as he was run through.  Jon immediately swung around to block a swing from the other.   Sandor was not as swift as he used to be, but he was strong and determined.  He quickly sliced through the one before turning to the other with a vengeance. Every bit of anger and loss coming through in the power of his swings before finally disarming and beheading his last opponent.  Sandor stopped to watch Jon with his wight and Beric with his own.  He saw Beric struggling and decided to aide him.  He distracted the wight got him to turn while Beric stuck him in the back.  However, by the time he looked back up to Beric the Night King had run him through, Beric grinned at Clegane before his eyes went glassy and he touched his fire sword to his coat in an attempt to not turn.  Sandor roared in anger and stalked toward his new prey.  It was then that Jon finally cut through his last man and came up behind him.  Jon was swift he had to give him that, his brother moving forward striking the Night King first.  Sandor kept looking behind him, Beric’s body smoldering some, not knowing if he would rise again to fight, and unsure of what side he’d be on if he did.

He aided his good brother blocking a parry and knocking the Night King back.  The blue eyes burned icy and cold into his own.  It only spurred him on further, remembering a pair of blue eyes at home waiting for him.  The two men took their turns advancing and catching him off guard.  They heard the cry of a dragon overhead the Night King looking up distracted when Sandor ran him through, he took a slice to the underside of his the arm for his troubles.  The Night King flaked away, after his vengeful hit, like many layers of ash on a burnt log, the haze that lay between them and the sun shifting.  Sandor could feel the warmth of his blood run down his and pool in the elbow of his coat.  Jon looked at him and saw the blood dripping into the snow.

“You’re cut.”

“Aye it’s a scratch.  We’re done, let’s get home.”

Jon nodded, they heard the cheers from the men behind them.  The sun finally peeking through, the long night would be over, but the war was not yet won.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear from 3 different camps

Sansa

When she first read the news she couldn’t stop crying.  They had defeated the Night King, the long night was over.  She couldn’t tell if it was joy or relief that made her tears flow freely down her cheeks when she read Jon’s missive, it took some moments to collect herself enough to continue reading.  The letter spoke of their journey to return.  That Sandor had suffered a minor injury but that he was well and that it should heal properly.  She sighed in relief, but still she worried for him.  Although Sandor was strong, the travel back from the wall would be long and difficult due to the packed ice, the snow would melt from the warmth of the sun, only to be refroze with the winds or the night.  She worried that the hardness of the journey would inflame or complicate his otherwise innocuous injury.

She had yet to hear from Arya. She knew that sending a raven wasn’t an option for them, for fear that it would be intercepted.  Bran was able to get clips of visions. Arya on a ship.  Jaime in the streets of King’s Landing looking dirty.  Bran had seen other things, too.  A large man in dark armor and a full helm riding through forests with ten men in gold and red.  She didn’t understand, she knew it was Lannister men but why they sent such a small party she couldn’t figure.  Bran only said it was meant to be as he looked into the flames. 

With the army of the Dragon Queen soon returning, Sansa made for preparations for their return.  Rationing things out now best she could, so that a feast could be had upon their return. 

She found that the tea Gilly suggested was helpful to her with eating in the morning.  She was sleeping better at night so she found that she was not as exhausted throughout the day.  She found now that she was often restless, pacing the keep, unsure of what would happen or when.  Somedays she feared she would go mad with apprehension and worry.

 

Arya

They had finally made it to the Capital.  She noticed that despite the chill replacing the sweltering summer heat that the city still had the stench of death and filth. The skyline had changed though, the Sept of Balor having disappeared into a pile of burnt rubble.  Between the two of them they had found the tunnels to get into the Keep and had made their way forward, watching and waiting in dark corners.  Jaime had been alarmed when he noticed that the guards of his sister had changed. 

“The mountain is gone.”  He stated to her after they had retreated into the dark like two rodents. 

“I heard the mountain was dead.”  It didn’t make sense what he had said, even she had heard The Mountain was killed by Oberyn Martell.

“Cersei had a necromancer bring him back, but he wasn’t right.  He wasn’t how to described Jon or Sir Beric.  There was something wrong, ghastly the last time I saw him.”  Arya’s heart raced.  Jaime continued.  “I can’t imagine she’d be so confident to send him off far.  Not when she has so few allies.”  

“She sent him for her, for Sansa.” Arya said solemnly.  “We’ll have to act soon she’s either confident or mad enough to have sent him away.  We have to hope that Sansa is protected and that he can be killed again if that’s where he is going.  Either way there is nothing we can do from here.”  She just hoped Bran would see and make plans.

The lion looked worn down and defeated in the weak torch light.  The dirt from their rough living marring his usually handsome face, all the better for him not to be recognized if they were found, she thought.

“Do you like Brienne more than your sister? Is that why you’re doing this?”  Jaime looked at her taken aback.  He didn’t answer right away, thinking over his response. 

“I admire Brienne.  She’d told me once that I took a vow and has since reminded me that I continue to fail at upholding it.”  A smirk tugged at his lips.  “I did nothing of valor, except the one thing I was sworn to never do.  My reasons for King Slaying were kept secret from everyone except those closest to me, but it needed to be done or more people would have died.  However, being blinded by my love for Cersei has led me to continue making selfish mistakes.  And so it seems I am destined to slay kin as well as Queen.  But I cannot allow Cersei to destroy everyone in her path, any more than I could Aerys.”

Arya was quiet for a moment before she continued.  “That wasn’t the answer to my question.”

“No, I don’t love her more than my sister, but I respect her.”

Arya nodded.  Sensing that this was the most she was going to get out of him on the subject and nestled down into her bedroll to sleep. 

 

Sandor

The going was slow back from the wall.  He had half a mind to strike out on his own so he could move more quickly through the forest.  The temperatures had warmed somewhat, at least the sun would appear on a regular basis as opposed to being covered by clouds and icy hazes.  But it made the road hard to travel.  The slush would freeze making it difficult for the men as well as the horses to travel swiftly.  There had been several cart breakdowns on the way back, luckily the provisions were fewer than they had been than on their way north.

It had been a fortnight of this.  His temper foul though the cut on his arm had improved and was no longer impeding his movements.  Most men feared to approach him, the Queen always eyeing him warily when they would make camp for the day.  She would travel on that dragon of hers but insisted on staying with her men.

“You’re miserable, Sandor.” Jon told him one evening while they sat around one of the campfires.

“What of it?”  He huffed back.

“Take a few men, move on ahead of the rest of us if you wish.  I know you’d rather be moving more quickly.  If you get off of the main road, it should be easier to travel.  We’ll be behind you.”

It made Sandor uneasy.  Leaving the rank and file of the men.  He eyed Jon skeptically at his proposal.

“You’re a Lord now are you not?  The only one that truly gets to tell you what to do is my sister.”  Jon Snow smirked at him good naturedly and Sandor huffed a laugh, his first in ages.

“Aye, you’ve the right of it.”  Thinking on what was offered.  It truly did make him uneasy that she was at the keep without him or Jon.  “I’ll take 5 men with me, one of the scouts and 4 of the Winterfell men, I’m sure some would be happy to get back to what’s theirs as well.” 

Jon nodded once.  “Just give me a list of who you’re taking when it’s decided.”

“I’ll pick the men tonight, and be off tomorrow before dawn.”

“I’ll see you at Winterfell, Good-brother.”  Jon stated jovially and grasping his arm before making off for his tent. 

Sandor watched the flames lick at the logs in the fire.  The flames and embers made strange shapes, tonight it was like looking into the eyes of his brother, he rose from the log he was seated on and shook his head.  It seemed when he was tired and wary lately his eyes would play tricks on him.  It happened the night that Sansa fell asleep curled in his lap, the flames licking at the logs like little men marching to war.  He was startled by this recollection and pushed the thoughts away, kicking snow over the fire and moving toward the cluster of men that he knew would be willing to ride hard and go with him on the morn.  If he was lucky he could make up for lost time and be back at Winterfell in a fortnight or less.


	30. Chapter 30

Sansa

It had been a fortnight since she last heard from Jon.  Once the threat was no longer imminent his Ravens became few and far between, even though she had asked after him and the host.  She sat in her solar, looking over the numbers yet again.  Grain was running low, but if the winter was shortened by the end of the Night King then it could be sufficiently stretched.  She sat back in her chair and stretched, her neck was stiff from being bent over her work for so long. 

She wondered where Talia was, she had sent her to Wintertown to get a few supplies that Gilly had suggested from the midwife.  She had missed her moon’s blood for 3 turns and she was more confident that she was with child, the Maester was also confident that all was well with her pregnancy. 

Her mind turned back to her maid, she had caught her a few times making eyes at Podrick who would in turn blush furiously.  She grinned at the idea of them being sweet on each other, that marrying for love would no longer be a fairy tale but something that was a regular occurrence in walls of Winterfell. 

She decided she needed a stretch of the legs so she grabbed her cloak, pulling it around her to go walk the yard and the battlements.  Brienne followed her as she walked through the halls.  She greeted people as she went checking in with the various tradesmen, the keep seemed to have come alive since the reappearance of regular sunlight.

As she made it to the stairs one of the spear wives approached her rather hurriedly. 

“There are riders approaching the east gate, Lady.”

She looked up at the woman speaking to her.

“What are their banners?  Are they ours?”

“There are none.  But looks to be about 10 men.”  Sansa raced up the steps, Brienne close behind, her heart in her throat. 

She peered over the battlements hoping to see her husband, her stomach lurched instead.

It was wrong, everything was wrong.  There was an extremely large man, bigger than Sandor, astride a horse.  She knew who it was, it could only be him.  Jaime had told her that he had somehow survived, that Cersei had somehow revived him.  She could feel the bile and the panic clawing at her throat.

It was then she realized there was another rider on one of the horses, skirts and hair billowed in the wind.

_Talia._

Sansa was frozen, Brienne braced her elbow.

The riders made it to the gate, a knife to Talia’s neck.  The Mountain looking directly at her on the battlements.  He pointed to her, then pointed to the girl in front of one of the other riders.  Sansa’s heart sunk, there was no time to organize men.  No time to do anything but stand helplessly frozen.

 

Then she saw him, unmistakable in his armor stalking toward the riders.  Podrick followed closely by Gendry and a few of the men from the south gate. She clutched Brienne’s arm, the rider dropped Talia to the ground to take on the approaching men.  Sansa was terrified watching the scene below.  Talia had screamed as she fell and seemed frozen in fear now, scurrying back from the fray.  The Mountain rode toward Podrick, only seeing him as the leader to be dealt with.  The other men dismounted dividing evenly between those that came out to face them. 

Sansa could feel her breath catch, her heart race.  She gave the signal to send out another ten men, fearful of what would happen if she didn’t.  She watched as the men began to thrust and parry, metal ringing and swords flashing in the light.

It wasn’t long before Gregor had Podrick by the neck, his sword pressed to the boy’s eye.  She heard Talia let out another scream, but it did nothing to distract the man from his intent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. The next chapter should be up by tomorrow morning at the latest.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleganebowl y'all

Sandor

Winterfell was in his sights.  He could see the North gate, the broken tower thrusted up from the horizon.  He was getting closer as his horse loped beneath him.  He had just passed the last few trees, his eyes noticing the lack of guards at the top of gate.  He was about ready to curse the big wench for leaving the keep inadequately guarded when he heard it, a woman’s scream.  His heart pounded in his in his ears, competing with the thundering hooves.  He looked to his men urging them forward, making for the east gate and pushing his horse to a gallop, trying to stay close to the walls to keep from being seen, in an attempt to keep whatever threat awaited them from seeing their approach.  He unsheathed his sword prepared for a fight.

When he turned the corner he caught sight of his nightmare come to life.  Only one man could be in that suit of armor. There were at least twenty men engaged in battle, he could see three laying on the ground succumbed to their injuries.  A woman cowering close to the wall.  He motioned for his scout to see to her.

Gregor had Podrick by the neck, his sword point held to the lad’s eye.  Blood was flowing freely down his cheek.

He let a roar let loose from his throat as he charged at the monster who had made his home hell growing up.  He would not allow him to impact his home now.  Gregor turned and blocked Sandor’s sword thrust, throwing Podrick to the ground.  The boy lay deathly still, but he couldn’t think on that now, as Gregor was swinging his sword down at him.  The other men were engaged fully in battle around him, swords singing as they made contact.    

Sandor looked into the eyes of the monster that still loomed over him after all these years, the blood shot eyes, the discoloration of his skin visible beneath the helm.  Their swords swinging and clashing in the late afternoon sun, the iced over snow crunching under his feet.  He turned away from one of Gregor’s swings only to see the flash of red hair amongst the parapets above.  It gave him strength to continue despite his wariness, despite the difficulty of the ground he tread on and despite the shock that coursed through him with his nightmare come back to life.   

He parried and thrusted attempting to get Gregor off balance.  In Gregor’s revival he had become stronger, but had lost speed.  Sandor attempted to use this to his advantage by using his quickness to offset and confuse the beast before him.  He had just made a large arching swing but had slipped on some ice, Gregor loomed over him, his sword coming down in a hard axe-like swing.  But somehow Gregor had stumbled to the side, his sword making a slice in his thigh.  A young man, dark of hair had just hit Gregor in the side with a war hammer.  Sandor nodded his thanks before regaining his footing, the pain twinging up his thigh. He stepped forward to finish what he had spent his whole life planning. The lad with the hammer hit Gregor again this time knocking him to the ground, Sandor saw his chance and took it.  He swung down, attempting to slice through Gregor’s neck where the helm gapped in the back of his armor but the sword deflected and got caught in between, slicing through the edges of the armor.  Gregor snapped his head back, trapping the sword in a crush of metal.  Again the lad swung down and Sandor was able to pull his sword free.  He took another swing, the Valyrian steel slicing through the weakened metal at the back of Gregor’s helm and gorget.  He pulled the sword again, the steel coated in the near black substance that emerged from Gregor’s armor.  He swung down again to be sure the job was done, beheading Gregor in the process.  The lifeless form laying prone on the ground. 

It was over.

Relief flooded him, he looked above to the parapet but the red was gone.  He looked at the carnage around him, the young woman was bent over Podrick. The Lannister forces were all dead.  His leg throbbed, he was starting to feel light headed.  He looked down to see blood dripping into the dirty snow at his feet.  He slumped to his knees, the lad with the hammer attempting to slow his fall. 

He thought he heard his name as the bright sun faded to black.


	32. Chapter 32

Sandor

The first thing he noticed was warmth.  He opened his eyes to muffled light coming through the shutters on the window.  As he looked above him he realized he was in his bed and he gasped in a breath and coughed, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Sandor!” He heard a gasp from the other corner of the room, a clatter of wood on the stones as she must have dropped something.

The bed shifted as it accepted the weight of the girl whose hands were now on his face making their way down his neck and resting on his chest, as if checking this was real.  The fingers of one hand making their way back to cup his cheek.

When his eyes met her face he was startled to see how drawn and worn out she looked.  Her face was gaunt and dark circles formed under her eyes.

“Little Bird,” he gasped.  “How long?”

Her eyes were brimmed with tears

“Three days, the wound in your thigh caused you to lose a lot of blood.”  His hand moved up to cup her face, where she held it to her with the hand from his chest.  He words bringing the ache in his thigh to his attention

“Have you not slept?” his thumb cresting over her cheek.

“Not well, and my appetite… It’s been better.”  They were interrupted by Sam knocking and then entering their chambers.

“Oh well, you’re awake!  I’m glad to see it.”  He carried a tray with a cup and kettle for tea and set it on the table.

Sandor scowled in confusion at the plump man that had just entered his chambers so boldly. 

“Will you be taking some food with this, Sansa?” It seemed more of a suggestion than a question.

“Yes, Sam please.  Although, please let Talia be, have one of the kitchen maids bring it.” 

“Very, well.  I’ll come back after a while with clean dressings for the Lord.” Sam nodding to Sandor on the bed and left.

Sandor turned his attention to Sansa who gave him a bemused expression.  She stroked his cheek again before going to the table to pour herself some tea and a cup of water for him.  

“So, you’ve not ate and you’ve not slept.”  Sandor grumbled his voice rougher from the lack of use and his dry throat.  “I should have stayed here and let Brienne go.”

“No, I had been doing much better, up until the other day.  I nearly lost you and I couldn’t bear to sleep if it meant neglecting you.”  She was teary eyed again and the tea kettle bumped against the cup as she pours as if her hands were shaking. 

He sat up, with some effort and a wince, as she handed him the cup.  He drank from in gladly, the cool water doing soothing his parched mouth and throat.  She walked away from him to the windows to let in more light now that he was awake.  She took a sip of the tea as she looked out on the courtyard below her hand resting on her stomach, a wistful look on her face.   As he took in all of her something didn’t add up.  Her face was thin and gaunt and her figure was changed but not in a way that looked as ill as the rest of her.  He couldn’t place it, but something had changed. 

She set the tea back down on the table before approaching him and setting on the bed facing him.  She had a look that he struggled to discern.

“I must tell you something, but you mustn’t get angry.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his fist clenched around the empty cup.  He knew that he had been gone for a long time.  Had something happened?  He tried to keep his calm but it was poorly reigned in now, feeling weak from his lack of food. 

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but they were interrupted yet again.

“Buggering hells.”  He muttered under his breath, glaring at the poor girl who was doing nothing wrong except bringing food for him and his wife.

He set the cup down harshly on the bedside table.  Sansa gave him a reproachful look, brushing his hair away from his face as she moved to the table to see to the tray.  She thanked the girl and sent her off, following after her to bolt the door.

He sighed heavily, more frustrated with his inability to control his temper than anything else.  She brought the tray to him on it a bowl of broth, bread and cheese.  He saw that her fare was the same as his own. 

He wanted her to speak to get out what she needed to say, instead she took up her bread and dipped it into her broth and motioned for him to eat, as well.

“It is nothing that can’t keep until we’ve ate, My Lord.  It is seems your temper has suffered from lack of food, best that I tend to your needs first.” He sighed and tilted his head back against the bed.  Frustrated with himself for forcing her to use the talons wrapped up with those blasted courtesies. 

So he set to eating, he realized how famished he was once he started.  The broth wasn’t hearty but he found himself full with what was in front of him.  As he finished he settled back against the headboard, ready for her to share whatever horrific news he was about to hear. 

She got up and removed the tray, she looked better after having ate, color creeping its way back to her cheeks.  She sat down next to him and composed herself, stealing a breath.

“Out with it girl, the longer you take the worse I fear that it is.”  He was on edge and worried about what she was going to say.  He was not used to good news and the way she was dancing around it made him fearful.

She took up his hand that had been laying on the bed, bringing it to her mouth to kiss his palm before resting it in her lap and close to the trunk of her body.  The gesture was reassuring for him and he sighed, releasing some of his tension. 

“Sandor, I’m with child.”  It barely came out above a whisper, he almost thought he didn’t hear her correctly.  His mood softening as he absorbed it all.

“What?”  He stated quietly, nearly matching her in tone, his head tilting as if it would help him understand.  Surely he must have misheard her.  He had only had her once after her moon’s blood, before he left. 

A tear streaked down her cheek, he reached a hand to her face, wiping it away with a thumb.  The hand in her lap moved forward of its own volition to press into her stomach, unsure if this was all real.

He looked down at the hand on her belly, overcome with a feeling of awe.  Their eyes met and she did not repeat herself, she didn’t need to, he understood.  This was real.

He cupped the back of her head with the hand on her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her back to draw her closer to him, and she came willingly.  He kissed the tear tracks on her cheek before fully wrapping her up in his embrace, his forehead resting against hers.  She relaxed against him and huffed out a laugh, releasing the tension.  

“How long have you known?” He asked, his curiosity winning over the desire to not disturb her.

“Three moons, now.” 

“You’re happy?”

She pulled back looking at him incredulously, “Of course I’m happy, you daft man.”

He let loose a bark of laughter before shifting more towards the middle of the bed, and dragging her with him.  He deserved her talons after his temper.

Sansa

After three days of watching him lay motionless on the bed, it felt good to be wrapped up in him. 

She couldn’t explain why she was so nervous to tell him her happy news.  They had only talked about children once and having been apart for so long threw off their rhythm with one another.  Sitting here in his embrace seemed to aide in returning that rhythm.

They sat quietly for some time before they were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Sansa knew it was Sam as she untangled herself from Sandor. 

She opened the door to a warm smile and a basket of clean dressings and salve for his wound.

She stated her thanks, closing and re-barring the door.

“What’s that?” He rumbled from the bed, his voice returning to normal after food and drink.

“Clean dressings.” She said matter-of-factly.

He chuckled.  “So you’re a maester now are you?”  He was smirking good humoredly at her.

“Might be, could be.”  She said smugly as she turned away to put the basket on the table.  “Did your stitches just fine for you.”

He grew serious after that.  “You didn’t need to do that.”

“But I did, Podrick needed the Master to at least try and save his eye.  Sam needed to attend to one of the wounded guards, so it left me.”  She sat down on the bed and pulled his covers back. 

She gingerly removed the old dressings, Sandor hissed slightly as the fabric unstuck from the wound. 

“Gendry had to hold you down, you were a terrible patient otherwise your stitches might have been straighter.”  

He was watching her wash and recover the wound on his thigh, just below his old injury.

“Who’s Gendry?”

She paused, holding her breath before pulling the covers back up to his waist.

“An old friend of Arya’s.  He’s a black smith that came from the south with Jaime Lannister.”  She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she put the old dressings back in the basket. 

“Explain, Little Bird.”  The tone wasn’t a request, she could see him fist the furs.

“Jaime Lannister came to our gates with reinforcements and tradesmen.” She met his eye then, but he made no move to interrupt her, so she sat up straighter and lifted her chin.  “We held him here for a while to see if we could trust him.  He has since gone back to King’s Landing with Arya in an attempt to Kill Cersei, to help prevent any more bloodshed.  Then Daenerys can have the throne if she so wishes.”

Sandor took in a heavy breath.  “Why didn’t you send word about any of these happenings?”

“I didn’t want to worry you more than you already were.”  She took in a breath before continuing.  “I feared that if I wrote saying Jaime was here, you’d have killed yourself trying to get back here, and if you didn’t you would have once you found out Arya had gone to Kings Landing with him.  As for the baby, you made it sound as if you didn’t want to know.  But that’s why when I did write I’d say we were safe.  I figured maybe you’d figure it out or something, it was my way of telling you.”

“So you behaved recklessly, so I wouldn’t?”

“Yes.”

“You’re more like that wolf of a sister than either of you would ever believe.”  She felt her eyes tear up then.

“No more secrets, Little Bird.”  He looked at her seriously, the worry that had creased his forehead releasing some.

“No more secrets.”  She blinked away her tears and adjusted to be back next to him, her head on his chest as he sat against the headboard.

“How’s the boy?”

“Hmm? Podrick?”

“Aye.” 

“He’ll be fine, the Maester couldn’t save his eye.  But Talia has fussed over him ever since, so I’m sure he’ll adjust.”  A smirk playing at her lips.

“Aye, is that what you’re doing, Little Bird?  Fussin’ over me?”  He tilted her chin up to his face and kissed her.

“Why, is it helping?”  She arched her eyebrow up at him.

“Might be, could be.”  He rumbled lowly at her, sending a shiver up her spine. 

He carded his fingers through her hair sending little waves of pleasure down her scalp.  It had been so long since he had held her properly.

“Do you have duties to attend to?”

“No, Sam has insisted on taking care of everything for now.  At least until you no longer need a nursemaid.” She teased.

“I’ve missed your talons, girl.” Clutching her to him and taking her lips in a chaste kiss. 

Sandor pulled back from her, brushing locks of hair away from her face.

“Tell me what you want.” He rasped.

“I want to enjoy you, just like this.”  She said snuggling up under his chin.  “I want to sleep, I want to eat again and then I want to give you a proper welcome home.”  She grinned mischievously into his chest. 

“Aye?  Let me wash up some, you get out of that dress, and we’ll do all of those things.”  Sandor grinned wolfishly at her as he got up from the bed. “I’ve missed you woman, and I intend to have you.  As long as it won’t hurt the babe, that is.”

She rolled her eyes at him.  “Of course it won’t hurt the babe.”  She watched him gingerly put weight on his leg as he hobbled to the dressing screen.  She bit her lip, pleased with his concern for the baby.

She stood to take off her dress, grateful to be able to revel in her domestic bliss and be able to enjoy the most mundane of moments with him. 


	33. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A southern update

Arya hated the itchy dresses.  She didn't understand how anyone could live so physically restricted.

The Lion had continued to be insufferable.  He had held his sister as she died, coming from the shadows to hold her, he had insisted on being in the room when it happened.   She had wondered if she was going to have to kill him, too.

  He'd been mopey since then and she tried to give him his space.  Tried not to crow too loud after avenging her family.   She had noticed he wasn't eating much and looked worn.   It isn't like she didn't understand what it was like to lose family but Cersie was hateful and cruel, even in her last moments she spoke of her traitor twin. 

Arya ruled as best she could without raising suspicions of the Greyjoy uncle.  However,  if he tried to grope her again he'd have one less hand than Jaime.  She tried to play a good Cersie but those around her were growing suspicious,  she couldn't play off as being as cruel, especially toward the innocents.

She sent a raven to Sansa to let her know the task was complete and to send the dragon queen and her fleet as soon as possible.  The Krackens could be defeated easily enough if Euron didn't grow suspicious and kill her or flee.  The throne would be held until their arrival,  and the sooner the better.  

She just hoped Jaime would make it until then.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates. I've been a bit distracted with working on another WIP.

Sansa

She had finally received word from Arya and she quickly scribbled out a letter to send to Jon.  They shouldn’t be far from Winterfell, about two days ride had been the last estimate, but she wanted to prepare them for the long journey ahead for Daenerys to take the throne.  She wanted to be able to feel at peace.  But most of she wanted her sister back. 

It had been over a sennight since Sandor’s return.  He was no longer confined to bed rest, but he was taking it easier with the new injury and only trained in the mornings with the remaining guard.   In the afternoons he returned to their chamber distracting her from her duties.  She found that she was much more productive in the mornings now, often rising for the day when Sandor arose to train.  She was starting to show some now, not much that anyone could really tell but Sandor and it seemed to have made him hungrier for her.  Not that she’d complain, she rather enjoyed his attentions.

 

She was making her way back to her chambers, about ready to take her midday meal with her husband, when she ran into Talia.  She curtseyed to her in passing and secret smile lit up her face.  Podrick had been recovering well under her watchful eye, and she hoped that there would soon be a wedding at Winterfell. 

When she arrived to her chamber the tray was laid out on the table, but her husband had yet to return from his own duties.  Removing her cloak and hanging it on the hook she set the table and poured herself some tea and sat down at the table to wait for him.

A few minutes later he entered their chambers, breathing hard as if he had hurried.  He removed his cloak and the light armor he wore.  Giving her a chaste kiss as he passed her on his way to the wash basin.

“You seem rushed, My Lord.” Sansa teased, never tiring of calling him Lord after all the fuss he put up over it in the past.  He narrowed his eyes at her before drying his hands and face on a towel.

“Aye.  One of your brother’s scouts arrived, they shall be returning tomorrow, midday at the latest.”

“Please sit, I have news.”

He sat down at the table, eye brow arched in expectation.

“Arya has written, she has killed Cersei.  She will await until Jon and Daenarys arrive to hand over the throne.  Unsure of how they want it to be handled.”

Sandor quirked a grin.

“She’s always been brave, seems she’s gotten smarter.”  He turned serious.  “But how long can she outsmart those around her?”

“I don’t know.  That’s why I told Jon to hurry.  I’ll have provisions at the ready so they don’t need to stop long, maybe have fresh horses ready for them as well?”

Sandor nodded.

“Davos would be able to get them to Kings Landing rather quickly by ship.  If they take the dragons they may be able to get there quicker but with fewer men.”

Sansa nodded, staring thoughtfully at the fire ahead.

“Maybe it’s best if they use both tactics. Arrive a day or two before the army.  Allow them to form a plan before they announce to the world that Cersei is done for.”

“Might be.  Either way, it’ll be up to your brother and Daenerys to decide that.  No doubt your brother will want to have a council meeting before he heads off again.”

“I’ll make preparations for that as well then.”

“Don’t work too hard on his account, Little Bird.  Sam seemed to have kept things going quite well in your absence.”

“Yes, it’s been quite nice having him here, especially now.  I find myself quite tired by the middle of the day.  I’ll send word to the kitchens and stables to start preparations.”

Sandor

Although he knew that she had been more tired lately, he saw the mischievous little look she gave him.  He was always hungry for her but it seemed her hunger outpaced his own this past week.

And he’d not complain or let on that he noticed one bit neither.  

“Eventually I’m going to have to go back to my regular afternoon duties.”  He said while watching her, amused by her sudden stern expression.

“I guess I’ll just have to assign new duties to you in the afternoon.  We can make Brienne your second in command.”

He nearly choked on his wine until he realized she was japing with him.

“Aye, Little Bird.  Best yet, make her master at arms.”

She jutted her bottom lip out in a pout for him not taking the bait.

“As you wish, My Lord.”  She finished her tea, then moved to get out of her chair.

Sandor watched her move around the room, taking off her dress to ready herself for her midday nap. 

Although, it often led to them being intimate he never discouraged her from this reprieve.  He knew she had hardly slept while he was gone and since the incident with Gregor her nightmares had a stronger presence than after they were first married.  It was no bother to him.  She was soothed easily enough by some soft murmurings and him holding her closely to him.  Most nights she didn’t even wake, just snuggled into his embrace and continued sleeping. Him on the other hand, his nightmare was dead.


End file.
